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lL^5t   El 


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In^t'O^u, — r 


FRED  LOCKLEY 

RARE  WESTERN  BOOKS 

4227  S.  E.  Stark  St. 
PORTLAND.  ORE. 


n 


LETTERS  OF  TRAVEL 


BY 


PHILLIPS    BROOKS 

LATE  BISHOP  OF  MASSACHUSETTS 


{.EDITED  BY  M.  F.  B.) 


<■>      %    ~t    ■>         a      o 


NEW  YORK 
E.  P.  BUTTON  AND   COMPANY 
31  West  Twenty-third  Street 
1902     ,     , 


Copyright,  1893, 
By  E.  p.  DUTTON  &  CO. 

All  riyhts  reserved. 


XCbe  f(niclterbocfter  press,  "ilew  t?orft 


PREFACE. 


These  letters  of  travel  of  the  late  Bishop  Brooks 
have  been  selected  from  his  correspondence  with  mem- 
bers of  his  family.  They  relate  to  two  journeys,  of 
more  than  a  year  in  duration,  taken  in  1865-66  and  in 
1882-83  respectively,  —  the  former  when  he  was  Rec- 
tor of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Philadelphia, 
the  latter  when  he  was  Rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
Boston,  —  and  to  shorter  summer  trips,  generally  of 
about  three  months  in  duration.  The  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  written  are  sufficiently  evident 
from  the  letters,  and  call  for  little  conunent. 

Several  of  these  series  of  letters  Bishop  Brooks 
regarded  in  the  light  of  a  record  of  his  travels  and 
experiences,  and  after  his  return  reclaimed  them,  and 
found  frequent  enjoyment  in  the  reminiscences  of  his 
journeys  which  they  awakened. 

Further  details  of  these  same  journeys  and  other 
letters  relating  to  them  will  appear  in  the  forthcoming 
Life  of  Bishop  Brooks.  But  before  that  is  given  to 
the  public,  it  seemed  possible  and  desirable  to  put  in 
shape  these  letters  of  travel,  which  give  an  important 
chapter  of  his  life  that  was  always  of  the  greatest 

948184 


IV  •  PREFACE. 

delight  to  him,  and  in  which  are  represented  many  of 
his  most  striking  personal  characteristics. 

An  interesting  journey  taken  in  1887,  which  in- 
cluded his  attendance  at  the  Queen's  Jubilee  Service 
and  his  last  meeting  with  Robert  Browning  and  Mat- 
thew Arnold,  as  well  as  his  second  visit  to  Tenny- 
son, is  unmentioned,  for  the  reason  that  he  was  accom- 
panied on  that  journey  by  members  of  his  family  to 
whom  the  writing  of  those  letters  which  should  con- 
tain the  continuous  record  of  the  summer  was  commit- 
ted. For  the  same  reason,  one  letter  alone  appears 
in  this  collection  to  represent  a  journey  made  in  1890, 
when,  in  addition  to  a  trip  to  Switzerland,  he  visited 
parts  of  England  including  Cornwall  and  Devonshire, 
which  are  associated  with  Kingsley's  Westward  Ho ! 
and  also  Andover,  the  name  of  which  is  so  closely  con- 
nected with  the  life  of  the  Phillips  family  in  America. 

The  letters  retain  the  familiar  character  which  be- 
longed to  them  as  being  intended  for  the  members  of 
his  own  family.  It  will  be  seen  that  in  no  other  form 
could  they  have  been  given  to  the  public,  and  they  are 
thus  enabled  to  convey  not  only  an  interesting  story  of 
travel,  but  also  something  of  that  personal  charm  and 
ready  wit  and  genial  appreciation  which  those  who 
were  nearest  to  him  loved  so  well.  His  warm  remem- 
brance of  friends  from  whom  he  was  absent  will  be 
evident  in  all  these  letters,  and  his  nature  will  be  seen 
in  its  sunniest  and  most  playful  mood. 

Octobery  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

First  Journey  Abroad,  1865-1866 1 

In  the  Tyrol  and  Switzerland,  1870 139 

Summer  in  Northern  Europe,  1872 154 

From  London  to  Venice,  1874 172 

England  and  the  Continent,  1877 181 

In  Paris,  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  1880         .        .  187 
A  Year  in  Europe  and  India,  1882-1883  ....      191 

England  and  Europe,  1885 325 

Across  the  Continent  to  San  Francisco,  1886         .        .      343 

A  Summer  in  Japan,  1889 355 

Summer  of  1890 374 

Last  Journey  Abroad 376 


LETTERS  OF  TRAYEL. 


FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

1865-1866. 

Steamer  Scotia, 
Monday  p.  m.,  August  14,  1865. 

Dear  Mother,  —  My  first  letter  from  abroad 
shall  be  to  you.  It  will  not  be  much  of  a  letter,  for 
nobody  feels  like  doing  anything  on  shipboard,  and 
especially  this  afternoon,  when  the  ship  is  rolling 
worse  than  it  has  yet.  We  have  had  a  splendid 
passage  so  far ;  I  have  not  been  seasick  for  a  moment 
since  I  came  on  board,  and  we  are  now  more  than  half- 
way across.  Father  and  WiUiam  gave  you  my  biogra- 
phy up  to  the  moment  of  sailing.  They  came  pretty 
near  having  to  go  to  Europe  themselves.  The  first 
days  out  were  very  smooth,  and  we  were  well  used  to 
the  motion  of  the  vessel  before  the  rough  sea  began. 
There  has  been  considerable  seasickness  aboard. 

We  spend  almost  all  the  time  on  deck.  I  have 
scarcely  been  below  except  for  meals  and  sleep.  It  is 
the  nicest,  laziest,  and  pleasantest  life  in  the  world. 
We  breakfast  at  8.30,  lunch  at  12,  dine  at  6,  and 
sup  at  7.30.  There  is  the  funniest  collection  of 
people  here  :  English,  French,  Germans,  Portuguese, 
Jews,  and  Secessionists ;  lots  of  Southern  people  going 


2;  W^J^I':  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

tx)  f orejgR  parts  tp  liide  their  shame.  I  have  made 
sbme  Vei'y  pleasant  friends,  especially  a  nice  English 
family,  whose  son  has  been  in  our  army.  They  live 
in  Cheltenham,  England,  and  have  invited  me  to 
visit  them. 

We  had  service  yesterday  ;  the  Captain  (Judkins) 
read  service  and  a  sermon.  It  was  quite  interesting. 
I  thought  of  you  all  at  home,  and  felt  that  you  were 
praying  for  us.  It  is  hard  to  count  these  things, 
though,  for  we  have  gained  already  two  hours  on  you, 
and  are  getting  farther  and  farther  to  the  eastward 
all  the  time.  We  have  not  had  the  sensation  of  dan- 
ger yet,  except  the  last  two  nights,  when  it  has  been 
very  foggy,  and  we  have  run  along  blowing  our 
whistle  almost  all  the  time,  not  knowing  what  ship  or 
iceberg  we  might  run  into  any  minute.  As  yet  all 
is  safe. 

It  is  wonderful  how  fast  the  time  goes  here.  The 
days  have  not  dragged  at  all,  though  there  is  next  to 
nothing  to  do.  We  read  a  little,  and  walk  the  decks, 
and  look  for  ships,  and  the  hours  slip  by  delightfully. 
Father  told  you,  I  suppose,  that  the  Langs  were  on 
board.  I  am  burnt  up  as  brown  as  a  berry,  and 
never  was  so  well  in  my  life.  It  is  a  splendid  begin- 
ning of  my  tour. 

How  I  would  like  to  look  in  on  you  at  home,  or 
rather  how  I  would  like  to  have  you  all  here !  You 
would  enjoy  it  intensely.  It  would  not  be  so  agree- 
able if  one  were  sick,  but  everybody  says  the  voyage 
has  been  most  remarkable. 

I  leave  the  next  page  to  be  fiUed  up  between  here 
and  Queenstown. 


DUBLIN.  3 

Wednesday  Morning,  Aug^t  16. 

It  is  still  beautiful  and  delightful.  Just  a  week 
since  we  sailed,  and  the  most  splendid  week  I  ever 
passed.  Last  night  on  deck,  with  a  high  wind,  clear 
starlight  overhead,  and  the  phosphorescent  water 
below,  was  glorious  !  I  shall  be  almost  sorry  to  land, 
except  for  the  nights,  which  are  very  disagreeable  in 
these  miserable  little  berths.  My  room-mate  is  an 
Englishman,  just  returning  from  a  tour  around  the 
world.  He  is  intelligent  and  civil,  but  I  see  very 
little  of  him.  They  say  we  shall  be  in  at  Queens- 
town  on  Thursday  night.  I  will  mail  this  on  board 
to-morrow,  and  then  write  again  to  you  from  Dublin. 

Thursday  Morning,  August  17. 

All  has  gone  well,  and  we  shall  come  upon  the 
coast  of  Ireland  to-night.  To-morrow  morning  I  go 
from  Cork  to  Dublin,  where  I  shall  stay  till  over 
Sunday.  Perhaps  this  letter  will  reach  you  a  little 
earlier  by  being  mailed  on  board,  so  I  will  close  it  here. 
You  may  consider  our  voyage  as  prosperously  over, 
and  me  as  safely  into  the  Old  World.  No  stranger 
ever  got  into  it  easier.  When  I  write  again,  there 
will  be  more  incidents  to  record.  Now  I  only  ask 
you  to  thank  God  with  me  for  my  safe  voyage.  Give 
lots  of  love  to  all  the  household,  beginning  with  father 
and  going  down  to  Trip.  How  I  shall  depend  upon 
your  letters  at  London. 

Your  loving  son,  Phillips. 

Gbesham  Hotel,  Sackvllle  Stbbbt,  Dublin, 
Friday  Evening,  August  18,  1865- 

Dear  William,^ —  Safe  in  Dublin.  Is  n't  it  funny? 
The  Scotia  arrived  at  Queenstown  at  four  this  morn- 

1  His  brother,  William  G.  Brooks. 


4  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

ing,  and  we  at  once  went  ashore.  I  breakfasted  at 
Queenstown,  and  then  took  the  train  for  Cork,  where 
I  spent  three  hours  wandering  up  and  down  the  queer- 
est city  that  was  ever  made.  It  is  one  universal  Sea 
Street  and  Fort  Hill.  The  source  whence  all  the  Bid- 
dies and  Patsies  have  flowed  over  the  Atlantic  was 
evident  at  once,  and  there  are  plenty  more  of  the 
same  sort  to  come. 

At  twelve  o'clock  we  took  the  train  for  Dublin,  and 
rode  all  the  afternoon  through  the  loveliest  country 
that  ever  was  seen,  —  endless  fields  with  their  green 
hedges  and  rich  crops,  and  men  and  women  together 
harvesting  them.  I  reached  here  at  six  o'clock,  and 
got  a  room  in  Gresham's  Hotel,  a  good  house  which 
you  will  see  marked  upon  the  picture.  It  has  been  a 
perfect  day,  especially  after  the  long  confinement  of 
the  voyage. 

How  strange  it  seems  to  be  here !  The  old  town,  so 
far  as  I  have  seen  it  to-night,  looks  like  Boston.  To- 
morrow I  shall  see  the  great  Exhibition  and  all  the 
lions,  and  call  on  one  or  two  people  to  whom  I  have 
introductions.  The  Archbishop  (Trench),  I  am 
sorry  to  hear,  is  out  of  town.  I  shall  stay  here  tiU 
over  Sunday,  and  leave  on  Monday  for  Belfast  and 
the  Giant's  Causeway ;  but  I  only  meant  to  say  I  am 
here  safe.     God  bless  you  aU ! 

Affectionately,  Phillips. 

Jedburgh,  Scotland, 
Wednesday  p.  m.,  Augiist  30,  1865. 

Dear  Father, —  See  if  you  can  find  this  little 
pl£U3e  upon  the  map,  and  then  picture  one  of  the 
Brooks  boys  set  down  at  the  Spread  Eagle  Inn  (the 
picture  of  a  little  English  or  Scotch  inn),  after  an 


SCOTLAND.  5 

English  dinner,  to  tell  his  adventures  to  the  family  in 
the  back  parlor  of  41  Chauncy  Street,  Boston.  Let 
me  show  you  how  I  got  here.  Get  the  big  Atlas 
which  we  had  out  on  the  Sunday  night  before  I  left, 
and  trace  me  on  from  point  to  point. 

The  last  time  I  wrote  I  was  in  Dublin.  I  spent 
two  days  there ;  saw  the  great  Exhibition  (whose 
only  veiy  striking  point  is  the  collection  of  pictures), 
the  college,  and  the  other  sights  of  the  dingy  old 
town.  I  spent  Sunday  there,  and  went  to  service  at 
St.  Patrick's  Cathedral,  where  we  had  the  whole 
cathedral  service  in  its  most  splendid  style.  Sunday 
afternoon,  having  failed  in  town  to  see  Archbishop 
Trench,  whom  I  was  most  anxious  to  see  of  any  man 
in  Ireland,  I  went  down  to  Bray,  a  watering  place  near 
Dublin,  where  I  heard  he  was  to  officiate.  I  did  not 
find  him  there,  and  so  came  back  to  Dublin ;  whence 
I  started  the  next  morning  and  went  by  the  way  of 
Belfast  up  to  Port  Rush  on  the  northern  coast,  where 
I  spent  Monday  night.  Tuesday,  I  drove  over  to  the 
Giant's  Causeway  and  inspected  it  thorouglily.  It 
was  most  interesting,  —  more  wonderful  in  its  forma- 
tion than  I  had  imagined.  Then  back  to  BeKast,  and 
on  Tuesday  night  took  a  crazy  little  steamer,  called 
the  Lynx  (about  as  big  as  the  Nelly  Baker,  —  not 
quite),  for  Glasgow,  where  contrary  to  aU  reasonable 
probabilities  and  amid  aU  sorts  of  discomforts  we 
were  landed  for  breakfast  on  Wednesday  morning. 
Spent  the  day  there.  It  is  a  fine  city,  and  puts  one 
right  into  the  midst  of  "  Kob  Koy."  Nichol  Jarvie  lived 
close  by  the  hotel,  and  I  was  inclined  to  run  over  and 
congratulate  the  good  bailie  on  his  safe  return  from 
the  Highlands.  There  is  a  fine  old  cathedral  there, 
in  whose  crypt,  you  may  remember,  one  of  the  finest 


6  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

scenes  in  "  Rob  Roy "  is  laid.  Thursday  morning 
was  clear  and  lovely,  and  I  took  the  train  early  for 
the  foot  of  Loch  Lomond  (Balloch),  and  then  the 
steamer  up  the  lake  ;  it  is  a  glorious  sail,  different 
from  anything  I  know  in  America,  and  full  of  romantic 
interest ;  then  across  by  coach  to  Loch  Katrine,  and 
down  that  beautiful  lake  by  steamer.  This  is  the  one 
celebrated  in  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  you  pass 
right  by  Ellen's  Isle.  Then  by  coach  through  the 
Trossachs,  a  splendid  mountain  gorge,  to  Stirling, 
where  I  spent  Thursday  night ;  saw  the  great  castle 
and  the  old  home  of  the  Scottish  kings.  This 
brought  me  to  Edinburgh  on  Friday  morning.  Of 
Edinburgh  I  cannot  say  enough.  It  is  the  queen  of 
cities,  the  most  romantic,  picturesque,  un-American, 
old-world  town  that  ever  was.  I  have  been  there  till 
to-day,  and  would  like  to  have  stayed  a  week  longer ; 
its  beauty  is  not  forgettable,  and  its  quaint  sights  are 
past  all  description.  I  went  to  church  there  on  Sun- 
day: in  the  morning  to  one  of  the  plainest  of  all  plain 
Scotch  Presbyterian  churches,  where  you  sat  on  a 
board  as  wide  as  three  matches,  and  heard  a  sermon  of 
an  hour  long;  and  in  the  afternoon  to  an  Episcopal 
chiu'ch,  where  the  service  was  intoned. 

How  strange  these  old  towns  are!  You  do  not 
think  of  them  as  belonging  to  these  days.  They  seem 
to  have  done  their  work  in  the  world,  and  handed  it 
over  to  us,  and  crept  under  their  glass  cases  where 
they  are  kept  for  shows.  Still,  let  me  say  for  Edin- 
burgh that  I  found  it  practical  enough  to  get  there  a 
traveling  suit  of  fine  Scotch  tweed,  for  which  I  paid 
only  five  pounds,  which  is  less  than  half  what  it  would 
have  cost  me  in  America.  Monday  I  went  down  to 
Abbotsford  and  "  Fair  Melrose."     It  is  like  a  dream 


SCOTLAND.  7 

to  see  these  places.  Sir  Walter,  the  splendid  old 
fellow,  seems  to  walk  and  talk  with  you.  It  was  the 
day  I  had  been  looking  for,  ever  since  I  first  read 
your  old  Lockhart's  Life  some  fifteen  years  ago.  It 
will  always  be  -one  of  my  memorable  days.  Yesterday 
I  was  at  Koslyn  Chapel  and  Hawthornden,  both 
beautiful,  the  chapel  a  wonderful  little  gem  of  sculp- 
ture ;  then  back  to  Edinburgh  in  the  afternoon  and 
up  Arthur's  Seat,  the  famous  hill  which  overlooks 
Edinburgh. 

I  am  on  my  way  now  to  the  English  lakes,  and  have 
stopped  here  over  night  to  see  the  old  abbey,  and  a 
Scotch  family  to  whom  I  have  a  letter  of  introduction. 
I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  Scotchmen.  Their  thrift 
and  intelligence  demand  respect,  but  they  are  cold. 
I  spent  the  evening  in  Glasgow  with  the  family  of  a 
professor  there,  who  all  talked  the  broadest  and  most 
unintelligible  Scotch.  The  professor  insisted  that 
Pennsylvania  was  a  city,  but  was  pretty  well  informed 
about  our  war  and  politics,  —  an  Abolitionist  and  a 
Northern  man.  I  wish  that  you  could  see  this  queer 
little  town.     It  is  Scotland  in  a  nutshell. 

Thursday  p.  M. 

I  was  broken  off  here,  and  must  close  my  letter 
hastily  to  make  sure  of  Saturday's  steamer.  I  am 
very  well,  and  enjoying  everything  very  much  indeed, 
as  you  can  see.  To-day  I  have  spent  about  Jedburgh 
with  the  Andersons,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter,  and  who 
prove  to  be  very  pleasant  people.  Sunday  I  expect 
to  spend  at  Windermere  on  the  lake ;  after  that  I 
shall  begin  to  get  towards  London,  reaching  there  in 
about  ten  days. 

.  .  .  Love   to  everybody.      How  I  should  like  to 


8  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

see  you  all!     I  shall  depend  on  getting  a  letter   at 
London.  Your  affectionate  son, 

Phillips. 

Queen's  Hotel,  Manchester, 
Tuesday,  September  5,  1865. 

Dear  Mother,  —  My  last  letter  was  directed  from 
Jedburgh,  Scotland.  This,  as  you  see,  comes  from 
Manchester.  I  have  reached  England  since  I  wrote, 
and  seen  something  of  it  already.  From  Jedburgh  I 
went  to  Kelso  and  Berwick-on-Tweed  ;  thence  to  New- 
castle-on-Tyne,  and  to  Durham,  where  I  spent  a  few 
hours  and  saw  one  of  the  greatest  and  best  of  the 
English  cathedrals ;  then  to  the  little  village  of  Bar- 
nard Castle,  where  I  spent  the  night,  and  on  to  Win- 
dermere in  Westmoreland.  My  present  enthusiasm  is 
the  English  lakes.  They  are  very  beautiful.  I  walked 
from  Windermere  to  Ambleside  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Windermere,  and  spent  Sunday  there,  a  thorough 
English  Sunday.  I  attended  service  in  the  parish 
church.  At  Ambleside,  or  rather  close  by,  at  Rydal, 
are  the  old  homes  of  Wordsworth  and  Dr.  Arnold, 
and  a  few  miles  off,  at  Grasmere,  the  homes  of 
Hartley  Coleridge  and  De  Quincey.  From  there  I 
went  on  Monday,  by  coach,  through  a  splendid  lake 
and  mountain  region,  to  Keswick  on  Derwentwater, 
where  Southey  lived  and  is  buried,  and  then  by  rail 
via  Lancaster  to  Manchester,  where  I  arrived  last 
night.  Here  I  came  across  Americans  again.  I  have 
seen  three  or  four  already  from  Philadelphia.  This 
hotel  is  one  of  the  great  resorts  of  Americans  in  Eng- 
land. I  am  going  to  make  one  or  two  calls  here,  and 
then  shall  be  off  to  York. 


YORK.  9 

Wednesday  Morning,  September  6. 

I  spent  last  evening  at  Mrs.  Gaskell's.  She  is 
an  authoress ;  wrote  the  Life  of  Charlotte  Bronte  and 
several  novels  ;  a  charming  lady  and  most  hospitable. 
I  had  a  letter  to  her  from  Philadelphia.  She  knows 
all  the  literary  people  in  England  and  told  me  a  great 
deal  about  them.  I  met  there  a  Mr.  Winkworth, 
brother  of  the  lady  who  did  the  "  Lyra  Germanica." 
He  is  the  most  intelligent  Englishman  about  our  affairs 
that  I  have  seen.  This  was  the  pleasantest  meeting 
with  English  people  that  I  have  had.  Mrs.  Gaskell 
promised  me  a  letter  to  Ruskin,  in  London,  with  whom 
she  is  very  intimate. 

YoKK,  Thursday  Evening,  September  7. 

You  see  I  began  this  sheet  all  WTong,  and  so  you 
will  have  to  make  its  order  out  by  the  dates.  When 
I  left  off  I  was  at  Manchester.  I  left  there  yesterday 
forenoon,  and  reached  here  about  two  o'clock.  Here, 
you  know,  is  the  greatest  of  the  English  cathedrals. 
I  went  all  over  it  yesterday  afternoon,  and  attended  the 
evening  service.  The  music  was  very  fine.  This 
morning  I  took  the  train  early  and  have  spent  the  day 
at  Ripon,  where  there  is  another  fine  cathedral,  and  at 
Fountains  Abbey,  which  is  the  oldest  and  most  com- 
plete of  the  old  monastic  establishments.  I  am  back 
here  to-night,  and  shall  start  in  the  morning  for  Lin- 
coln, Ely,  Cambridge,  and  so  to  London.  I  should  like 
very  much  to  stop  at  Boston,  just  for  association's  sake, 
and  shall,  if  I  have  time. 

York  is,  I  suppose,  the  oldest  city  I  have  seen  yet. 
Here  we  get  our  first  sight  of  the  old  Romans,  who 
had  a  splendid  town  here,  and  whose  old  wall  still 
remains. 


10  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

I  am  afraid  my  letters  sound  very  much  like  guide- 
books. You  must  forgive  me,  but  remember  that  I 
have  nothing  to  write  except  what  I  see  and  hear. 
You  can  see  that  I  am  going  all  the  time,  and  from 
morning  to  night.  There  has  not  yet  been  one  stormy 
day,  and  I  have  enjoyed  everything  hugely.  I  have 
been  well  all  the  time.  So  far,  I  have  seen  hardly 
anything  of  Americans,  for  I  have  been  off  their 
routes.  I  have  talked  with  Englishmen  in  the  trains 
and  at  the  hotels.  I  had  no  idea  till  I  came  here 
what  a  tremendous  American  I  was.  I  have  n't  seen 
a  New  York  paper  since  I  left.  How  I  shall  revel  in 
all  your  letters  next  week.  Good-by.  God  bless  you 
aU.  Phillips. 

Golden  Cboss  Hotel,  Charing  Cross,  London, 
Sunday  Evening,  September  10,  1865. 

Dear  Father,  —  At  last  communication  is  re- 
sumed. I  arrived  here  yesterday,  and  found  at  Bar- 
ings your  noble,  long  letter,  in  which  I  reveled.  I 
hope  to  get  others  to-morrow  by  the  steamer  which 
arrived  yesterday.  How  good  it  was  to  get  in  sound 
of  you  again  and  hear  the  wheels  in  Chauncy  Street 
moving  on  as  smoothly  and  pleasantly  as  ever.  By 
this  time  you  are  all  together  again  except  Fred,  and 
he  will  be  there  soon.  How  I  wish  that  I  could  sit 
down  with  you ! 

My  last  I  mailed  at  Lincoln.  From  there  I  went 
to  Boston.  How  strange  it  seemed !  As  we  rode 
over  the  marshes  (fens,  they  call  them  here)  that 
surround  the  town,  and  saw  the  bricky  mass  rising 
before  us,  it  was  easy  to  believe  that  we  were  coming 
in  over  the  Back  Bay  and  would  be  with  you  at 
supper.     It  is  a  pretty  little  town  of   about   11,000 


LONDON.  11 

people.  You  walk  up  from  the  station  through 
Lincoln  Street  to  the  church,  which  is  the  principal 
object  of  the  town.  It  is  a  fine  old  piece  of  architec- 
ture. The  sexton,  who  showed  me  through  it,  was  very- 
civil,  especially  when  I  told  him  where  I  came  from. 
The  vicar  was  away,  or  I  should  have  called  on  him. 
I  left  my  card  for  him.  The  Cotton  Chapel  is  a  nice 
little  room,  well  restored ;  you  see  it  on  the  right,  or 
south  side  of  the  church,  in  the  exterior  one  of  the 
views  that  I  send  you.  They  still  use  the  old  John 
Cotton  pulpit,  but  the  sexton  told  me  that  they 
thought  of  getting  a  new  one  and  giving  the  old  relic 
to  the  American  Boston. 

I  went  then  to  Peterborough,  where  I  meant  to  spend 
the  night  and  go  to  Cambridge  the  next  day,  but 
Peterborough  was  so  full,  owing  to  a  great  sheep-fair, 
that  I  could  not  find  lodgings,  and  concluded  to  come 
right  through  to  London  and  go  to  Cambridge  by  and 
by ;  so  this  is  my  second  day  in  London.  I  am  right  in 
the  centre  of  the  City  at  the  head  of  the  Strand,  close 
to  Trafalgar  Square  and  Westminster  Abbey.  It  is  a 
fascinating  place,  for  there  is  not  a  step  that  is  not 
full  of  association.  I  have  seen  little  yet  in  detail. 
To-morrow  I  begin.  To-day  I  went  to  hear  Spurgeon, 
and  found  myself  in  an  immense  crowd  and  rush. 
He  is  not  graceful  nor  thoughtful  nor  imaginative, 
and  preached  a  great  deal  too  long,  but  he  is  earnest, 
simple,  direct,  and  held  the  hosts  of  plain-looking 
people  wonderfully.  I  believe  with  all  his  rudeness 
and  narrowness  and  lack  of  higher  powers  that  he  is 
doing  a  good  work  here. 


12  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Thursday  Evening,  September  14. 

This  must  go  into  the  mail  to-morrow,  so  I  shall 
finish  it  to-night.  Since  Sunday  I  have  been  seeing 
London,  and  have  been  very  busy.  Let  me  see: 
Westminster  Abbey,  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  Brit- 
ish Museum,  the  Tower,  the  National  Gallery,  the 
Sydenham  Crystal  Palace,  Regent's  Park  and  its 
Zoological  Gardens,  the  Tunnel,  with  lots  of  lesser 
sights,  and  the  greatest  sight  of  all  which  one  has 
always  in  wandering  about  the  streets  of  this  great 
Babel.  To-day  I  took  the  steamer  on  the  Thames,  all 
the  way  along  past  the  City,  and  through  its  old 
bridges.  Every  rod  here  has  some  interest  of  its  own. 
Yesterday  I  dined  at  Mr.  Adams's  at  half  past  seven 
o'clock,  a  very  pleasant  dinner,  and  both  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Adams  were  very  cordial  and  hospitable.  Mrs.  Adams 
was  especially  full  of  inquiries  about  you  and  mother. 
Their  son  Henry,  and  daughter,  and  one  or  two  others 
were  there.  On  Monday  I  go  down  into  Hampshire 
to  visit  Mrs.  Kemble.  I  have  a  very  kind  and  pressing 
invitation  from  her.  From  there  I  shall  very  probably 
keep  on  into  the  Isle  of  Wight.  I  do  not  know  how 
to  find  time  enough  for  England,  especially  for  Lon- 
don, as  I  must  leave  here  by  the  10th  of  October.  I 
have  left  the  hotel  and  gone  into  lodgings  at  Mrs. 
Dekker's,  No.  1  A,  Craven  Street,  Strand.  It  is  a 
little  cheaper  and  a  great  deal  more  comfortable. 

I  was  very  much  disappointed  at  not  getting  letters 
from  any  of  you  by  the  last  steamer.  I  do  hope  the 
next  will  bring  some.     Don't  forget  me. 

I  am  so  tired,  to-night,  as  every  night,  that  I  can 
hardly  write,  so  you  must  forgive  the  poorness  of  this 
letter.  I  think  of  you  all  and  home  constantly.  Tell 
Fred  to  write.     I   have  a  letter  from  Franks,  who 


HAMPSHIRE.  13 

talked  of  going  to  Boston  with  him.     I  hope  he  did. 
God  bless  you  all.  Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Wabnford  Cottage,  Bishops-Waltham,  Hampshirb, 
Wednesday,  September  20,  1865. 

Dear  William,  —  To-day's  letter  must  be  to  you. 
You  certainly  deserve  it  for  the  splendid  long  epistle 
which  I  received  last  Saturday,  for  which  I  cannot 
thank  you  enough.  I  am  glad  that  you  had  so 
pleasant  a  visit  at  Trenton  and  Saratoga,  and  I  en- 
joyed your  account  of  it  exceedingly.  Certainly,  so 
far  as  mere  natural  beauty  is  concerned,  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  any  need  of  one's  leaving  America. 

I  am  writing  this  before  breakfast  (they  don't 
breakfast  till  half  past  nine)  at  the  window  of  a  little 
English  cottage  which  looks  out  on  as  perfect  an 
English  scene  as  you  can  imagine.  There  is  a  piece 
of  lawn  like  velvet  in  front,  with  gorgeous  flower  beds 
spotted  over  it ;  then  a  hawthorn  hedge  shutting  out 
from  view  a  little  winding  lane,  beyond  which  are  the 
broad,  smooth  hills  of  Warnford  Park,  with  splendid 
great  trees  grouped  about  over  it,  and  the  Hall  in 
the  distance,  which  owns  and  rules  the  whole  estate. 
Isn't  that  English?  I  am  staying  here  with  Mrs. 
Kemble,  who  occupies  this  little  cottage  close  to  the 
large  estate  of  her  brother-in-law.  He  owns  the  Hall. 
I  came  here  on  Monday,  and  have  enjoyed  my  visit 
very  much.  Mrs.  Kemble  is,  as  I  expected,  very 
bright  and  interesting,  very  kind,  hospitable,  and  cour- 
teous. The  family  is  only  herself  and  one  daughter, 
who  is  just  as  bright  as  her  mother.  Yesterday  I 
drove  out  with  Mrs.  Kemble  to  Winchester,  about 
twelve  miles,   where  I  gaw  the   cathedral,  in   some 


14  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

respects  one  of  the  finest  in  England,  and  called  on 
one  of  the  canons,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter  from 
Bishop  Mcllvaine.  The  drive  there  was  very  beau- 
tiful, over  the  Downs,  as  they  call  them,  a  soft  roll- 
ing country,  spotted  over  with  the  sheep  who  are 
to  supply  the  Southdown  mutton,  which  you  know  is 
the  gi*eat  product  of  this  part  of  England.  To-day  I 
shall  leave  here  and  go  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  getting 
back  to  London  on  Friday,  and  then  I  shall  get  ready 
at  once  to  go  on  the  Continent.  I  find  it  is  impossi- 
ble at  this  time  of  year  to  see  people  or  institutions 
in  England  to  advantage  ;  so  I  propose  to  go  to  Ger- 
many and  the  East  a  little  earlier,  and  thus  secure 
time  in  the  spring  to  run  over  here  when  everything 
is  in  full  blast  and  I  can  do  it  more  satisfactorily.  I 
have  seen  most  of  the  "  sights  "  of  London.  After  I 
wrote  to  you  I  went  to  Hyde  Park  and  the  Kensing- 
ton Museum,  where  is  the  best  collection  of  modern 
English  pictures,  Reynolds  and  Hogarth,  and  Wil- 
kie  and  Leslie,  etc.  There  is  the  original  of  the 
"Blind  Fiddler"  over  the  nursery  mantelpiece  at 
No.  41.  The  whole  museum  is  very  interesting. 
Mrs.  Gaskell  sent  me  a  letter  to  Mr.  Euskin,  and 
I  drove  out  to  Denmark  Hill,  where  he  lives,  to 
present  it.  He  was  not  at  home,  so  I  only  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  his  house,  but  I  shall  see  him,  I 
hope,  by  and  by.  The  house  is  a  veiy  pretty  subur- 
ban mansion ;  a  fine  picture  of  Turner's  was  over  the 
mantelpiece.  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  Adamses. 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Adams  came  to  my  lodgings  and  left 
a  card,  "  The  Minister  of  the  United  States."  Sun- 
day I  dined  with  them ;  Sunday  morning  I  went  to 
the  Foundlings'  Chapel,  where  the  children  do  some 
of  the  best  chanting  in  London ;  in  the  afternoon  I 


BONN,  15 

went  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  and  heard  a  capital  ser- 
mon from  Melville,  who  is  called  one  of  the  best  preach- 
ers in  England.  I  called  on  Dean  Milman  with  Mr. 
Winthrop's  letter,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  visit.  He 
lives  in  a  curious  old  deanery  close  to  the  cathedral. 

My  next  will  be  dated  somewhere  the  other  side  of 
the  Channel.  All  goes  well  with  me  so  far,  as  you 
see.  I  am  in  capital  health  and  spirits.  Just  now 
I  think  of  you  all  together  at  home ;  how  happy  you 
must  be.  Do  write  to  me  every  week,  for  steamer  day 
is  always  looked  for  eagerly.  It  has  been  very  hot 
here,  but  is  cooler  now,  and  England  is  the  most 
beautiful  thing  you  can  conceive.  Good-by.  God 
bless  you  all. 

Phill. 

Hotel  Goldeneb  Stern,  Bonn, 
Monday,  October  2,  1865. 

Dear  Mother,  —  Isn't  this  a  funny  place  from 
which  to  write  you?  I  wish  you  could  see  it,  you 
would  think  it  funnier  still ;  but  you  would  have  to 
allow  that  it  is  very  pretty.  It  stands  on  the  Ehine 
just  before  you  come  to  the  Seven  Mountains,  where 
the  beauty  of  the  Rhine  commences,  and  is  one  of  those 
queer  old  German  cities  which  we  have  always  pictured 
and  know  so  little  about  until  we  have  seen  them. 
But  I  might  as  well  go  back  to  where  I  was  at  my  last 
writing.  I  told  Fred  to  send  you  my  letter  from 
London,  so  I  will  begin  there.  On  Tuesday  morning 
I  went  by  rail  to  Dover,  and  thence  by  boat  to  Ostend. 
Everybody  expects  to  be  seasick  on  the  Channel, 
but  I  was  disappointed.  We  had  a  four  hours'  sail, 
as  quiet  and  gentle  as  if  we  were  going  down  to 
Hingham.     It  was  most  charming,  and  not  a  soul  on 


16  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

board  suffered  from  the  sea.  We  came  up  to  the  wharf 
at  Ostend,  and  felt  at  once  that  we  were  in  Europe. 
I  brushed  up  my  French  and  went  ashore,  passed  the 
custom-house  examination,  and  took  train  by  Bruges 
to  Ghent,  a  queer  old  town  full  of  historic  interest; 
from  there  to  Brussels,  a  lively  French  town.  I 
found  it  right  in  the  midst  of  its  annual  fete  of 
national  independence.  The  streets  were  illuminated, 
fireworks  everywhere,  and  people  sitting  at  tables 
drinking  beer  in  honor  of  independent  Belgium.  I 
found  all  the  best  hotels  full,  and  was  crowded  into  a 
poor  one,  and  jabbered  my  French  for  the  first  time 
to  waiters  and  chambermaids.  I  went  from  Brussels 
to  see  the  field  of  Waterloo.  Everybody  does,  though 
it  was  n't  much  of  a  battle  by  the  side  of  Gettysburg 
and  Antietam*.  They  run  an  English  mail-coaxih  out 
there  every  day.  Then  I  saw  the  Brussels  streets  and 
churches.  From  Brussels  to  Antwerp,  a  dear  old  city, 
full  of  Rubens's  pictures  and  the  quaintest  old  Flem- 
ish houses  and  costumes.  From  Antwerp  to  Rotter- 
dam, part  by  rail  and  part  by  steamer,  up  the  Maas, 
through  miles  of  dykes  and  windmills  into  my  first 
Dutch  towuo  Such  a  language  as  they  talked  there ! 
I  have  n't  half  an  idea  what  anybody  said  to  me.  I 
made  a  tolerable  show  of  French  and  got  along  splen- 
didly in  German,  but  the  Dutch  was  too  much  for  me. 
I  could  only  smile  blandly  and  point  what  I  thought 
was  the  nearest  way  to  the  next  town.  From  Rotter- 
dam to  the  Hague,  a  nice  old  place  with  canals  instead 
of  streets,  and  fine  old  pictures  of  Rembrandt  and 
Rubens,  and  a  lot  of  others ;  then  to  Amsterdam, 
where  all  is  canal  and  not  street  again,  and  the 
horrible  Dutch  tongue  still.  I  went  to  the  New 
Church    (built   in    1408)    and   heard  them  sing  two 


BONN.  17 

verses  of  a  liyinn  in  their  language.  That  was  enough, 
and  I  ran  down  the  nearest  canal  to  the  English 
church  and  heard  our  own  dear  liturgy  and  a  sermon 
from  the  English  chaplain  instead.  From  Amsterdam 
to  Diisseldorf,  where  the  pictures  come  from  and 
where  many  splendid  ones  are  still,  to  Cologne,  where 
the  great  unfinished  cathedral  is,  at  which  they  have 
been  working  six  hundred  years ;  and  from  there,  here. 
To-day,  I  have  come  into  Germany,  where  they  speak 
German  and  charge  you  for  your  dinner  in  thalers. 
I  like  the  Germans  much.  I  respect  the  Dutch,  but 
I  would  not  live  among  them  for  a  million  a  year. 
To-day,  too,  I  have  come  into  the  region  of  Komish 
churches  and  relics.  I  have  seen  the  skulls  of  the 
Three  Wise  Men,  the  thorns  of  Christ's  Crown, 
the  wood  of  the  True  Cross,  one  of  the  water  pots  of 
Cana  of  Galilee,  the  steps  of  Pilate's  Judgment  Seat, 
and  a  church  lined  with  the  skulls  and  bones  of  the 
eleven  thousand  martyred  virgins  of  Cologne.  Of 
course  you  are  expected  to  believe  in  them  all,  and 
is  n't  that  pretty  well  for  one  day  ?  But  the  cathedral 
is  very  noble,  by  all  means  one  of  the  great  sights  of 
the  world. 

That  brings  me  to  Bonn.  From  here  trace  me  to 
Coblentz,  Mayence,  Heidelberg,  Frankfort  (where  I 
have  directed  my  letters  to  be  sent  and  hope  to  hear 
from  you),  Leipsic,  and  Berlin.  Am  I  not  a  lucky 
chap  to  see  all  this?  I  am  splendidly  well,  and  keep 
on  the  go  all  the  time,  and,  as  I  said,  am  getting  the 
hang  of  German  enough  to  be  quite  at  home  with  the 
people.  I  eschew  all  delicacies  and  rough  it  gen- 
erally. Last  night  for  the  first  time  I  found  a  feather 
bed  for  covering  in  my  room.  I  kicked  it  off  and 
slept  like  a  top  without  it.     The  worst  thing  to  me 


18  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

about  this  traveling  is  that  you  can't  drink  water. 
Think  of  my  misery.  But  it  is  too  vile  to  touch. 
However,  we  are  now  in  the  region  of  light  Rhine 
wines.  For  twelve  and  a  haK  groschen  (25  cents) 
you  get  a  bottle  of  good  wine  which  answers  pretty 
well,  but  I  would  give  a  doUar  for  a  pitcher  of  ice 
water  to-night.  AU  living  here  is  cheap,  but  in  Hol- 
land it  is  very  dear  and  very  poor  indeed.  I  think  I 
did  right  in  coming  alone,  that  is,  as  no  very  intimate 
friend  offered.  I  find  companions  everywhere,  and  see 
much  more  of  the  people  than  if  I  were  with  a  party 
of  my  own.  It  costs  a  little  more,  because  I  have  to 
pay  aU  fees,  which  are  a  great  expense  here  for  one, 
instead  of  dividing  them  among  a  party.  To-day  I 
met  a  Philadelphian  on  the  steps  of  Cologne  cathedral, 
and  last  week  I  found  a  family  of  parishioners  at  the 
Hotel  St.  Antoine  in  Antwerp. 

My  dearest  mother,  you  cannot  think  how  strange 
it  seems  to  be  writing  in  this  little  German  inn,  and 
knowing  that  you  will  read  it  in  the  old  back  par- 
lor at  home,  where  you  have  read  my  letters  from 
Cambridge,  Alexandria,  and  Philadelphia.  Johnnie 
will  bring  it  up  from  the  post  office  some  night,  and 
Trip  wiU  break  out  into  one  of  his  horrible  concerts 
two  or  three  times  while  you  are  reading  it.  Then 
as  soon  as  it  is  over,  father  wiU  get  out  his  big  candle 
and  you  will  put  up  the  stockings,  and  all  go  up  the  old 
stairway  to  the  old  chambers,  and  to  bed.  Well,  good- 
night and  pleasant  dreams  to  you  all,  and  don't  forget 
that  I  am  off  here  wandering  up  and  down  these  old 
countries  and  thinking  ever  so  much  about  you.  At 
Frankfort,  where  I  hope  to  be  early  next  week,  I  shall 
find  your  letters  and  have  a  talk  with  you  again. 


CASSEL.  19 

And  now,  good-night ;  peace  and  every  blessing  be 
with  you  always.     God  bless  you  all. 

Phillips. 


Casseii,  Germany, 
Monday  Evening,  October  9,  1865. 

My  dear  William,  —  Just  before  I  left  Frank- 
fort-on-the-Main  to-day,  I  went  to  the  bankers'  and 
found  there  your  good  letter  of  September  22.  It 
was  my  company  on  a  lovely  ride  up  the  country  to 
this  queer  old  German  town,  whence  I  answer  it  from 
the  dining-room  of  the  Romlicher  Kaiser  hotel.  A 
thousand  thanks  for  it.  I  shall  not  write  so  good  a 
one,  but  I  will  try  to  tell  you  what  I  have  been  doing 
in  a  very  busy  week  since  I  wrote  to  mother  last  Mon- 
day night  from  Bonn.  I  left  there  by  the  Ehine  boat 
and  landed  first  at  Kaiserwinter,  on  the  right  bank  at 
the  foot  of  the  Drachenf els ;  climbed  that  hill  and  saw 
one  of  the  loveliest  views  in  the  world  from  the  old 
castle  at  its  top.  We  went  up  through  vineyards  and 
looked  down  on  the  Rhine  winding  past  the  Seven 
Mountains  ever  so  far  towards  the  sea.  Kaiserwinter 
is  a  charming  little  German  village,  and  on  my  return 
from  the  hill  I  heard  the  bells  chiming,  and  stopped  to 
ask  what  it  meant.  I  was  told  it  was  a  "  Fest  "  or 
village  feast,  and  so  roamed  into  the  village  to  see  it. 
It  was  the  most  perfect  German  picture.  The  young 
men  of  the  village  were  firing  at  a  mark  in  a  little 
wine  garden,  and  all  the  hamlet  were  gathered  to  drink 
the  new  wine  and  look  at  them.  By  and  by  the  bird 
was  shot  down,  and  the  man  who  shot  it  down  was 
thereby  king  of  the  Feast.  He  had  the  privilege  of 
choosing  the  prettiest  girl  in  town  for  the  queen,  and 
then,  with  a  rustic  band  of   music,   the   procession, 


20  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

headed  by  the  king  and  queen,  marched  through  the 
old  streets  and  called  on  all  the  gentry,  who  treated 
them  and  gave  them  contributions  for  a  feast,  to  which 
they  all  returned  in  the  garden.  Here  they  made 
merry  through  the  afternoon,  and  closed  all  with  a 
dance.     It  was  just  like  a  German  story  book. 

Juch-he,  juch-he,  juch-heise,  heise,  he, 
So  ging  der  fiedelbogen. 

Think  of  being  at  a  dance  of  German  peasants  on 
the  Rhine  !  From  here  I  took  the  boat  again,  and  sail- 
ing down  past  vine-covered  hills  topped  with  ruined 
castles,  I  came  at  last  to  Coblentz.  Here  I  stopped 
again  and  climbed  to  the  Castle  of  Ehrenbreitstein, 
where  was  another  view  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Moselle, 
which  flows  into  it  just  here.  Then  the  boat  again, 
past  the  great  Castle  of  Stolzenfels  and  countless 
others,  one  on  almost  every  height,  till  we  came  to 
St.  Goar,  the  most  delightful  little  village  on  the  left 
bank.  Here  another  stop,  and  then  on  through  the 
region  of  the  choicest  vineyards  to  Mayence,  the 
quaintest  of  old  fortified  towns.  You  have  no  idea 
of  the  beauty  of  this  river  from  Bonn  to  Mayence. 
I  think  we  have  rivers  whose  scenery  by  nature  is  as 
fine,  but  the  castles  and  ruins  have  grown  to  be  a  part 
of  the  nature,  and  are  not  separable  from  it,  and  the 
soft  October  air  and  sunlight  of  those  days  showed 
everything  at  its  utmost  beauty.  The  trees  were  gor- 
geous in  color  with  not  a  leaf  fallen,  and  the  vineyards 
climbing  the  hills,  and  perching  on  every  inch  of 
ground  that  faced  the  southern  sun,  were  very  inter- 
esting. 

From  Mayence  I  went  to  Worms,  where  Luther 
dared  the  Diet ;  then  to  Mannheim,  and  so  to  Heidel- 
berg.    Of  all  beautiful  places  this  is  the  most  perfect 


CASS  EL.  21 

It  lies  along  the  Neckar,  and  is  overlooked  everywhere 
by  the  noblest  of  old  ruined  castles.  Here  is  one  of 
the  great  universities  which  I  went  to  see.  The  boys 
looked  pretty  much  like  Cambridge  juniors,  except 
where  here  and  there  you  see  one  with  his  face  all 
slashed  up  from  a  duel.  Let  us  be  thankful  Cam- 
bridge has  not  got  to  that. 

From  here  I  went  up  to  Wiesbaden,  one  of  the  great 
watering  and  gambling  places,  a  splendid  German 
Saratoga.  It  was  in  full  blast,  and  I  saw  the  roulette 
and  rouge-et-noir  tables  in  the  gorgeous  saloons 
crowded  day  and  night.  At  night,  a  great  free  concert 
by  a  splendid  band,  and  illumination  of  the  beautiful 
grounds.  It  was  a  strange  sight.  Then  to  Frankfort, 
where  I  spent  Sunday  at  the  Hotel  de  Russie.  It  is 
a  fine  town,  part  of  it  very  old  and  quaint,  part  very 
new  and  fine  ;  there  are  some  good  pictures,  some 
good  statuary,  and  an  old  cathedral,  where  I  went  and 
heard  a  German  sermon  and  some  splendid  German 
music.  Goethe  was  born  here,  and  his  house  still 
stands.  To-day,  I  came  from  Frankfort  here,  through 
one  of  the  richest  historic  regions  of  all  Germany. 
This  is  another  of  those  old  towns  to  which  I  am  get- 
ting very  used,  and  which  delight  me  more  and  more. 
I  like  the  Germans  immensely.  They  are  frank,  kind, 
sociable,  and  hearty.  They  give  you  an  idea  of  a 
people  with  ever  so  much  yet  to  do  in  the  world, 
capable  of  much  fresh  thought  and  action.  Their 
language  is  like  them,  noble,  vigorous,  and  simple. 
I  am  getting  hold  of  it  very  well.  They  think  for 
themselves  and  unselfishly,  and  they  believe  in 
America.  Their  peasants  are  poor,  but  seem  intelli- 
gent, and  their  better  classes  have  the  most  charming 
civility.     I  have  seen  more  pretty  women  than  I  saw 


22  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

in  all  England,  and  I  have  not  seen  the  best  of  Ger- 
many. I  am  impatient  to  get  to  Hanover,  and  Berlin, 
and  Dresden,  where  one  sees  the  finest  specimens. 

Here,  then,  you  have  another  week's  biography.  Is 
it  not  fuU  enough  ?  My  next  will  be  from  Dresden. 
I  shall  spend  all  this  month  in  Germany,  and  about 
the  first  of  November  leave  Vienna  for  the  East.  I 
am  splendidly  weU  and  happy  all  the  time,  but  very 
often,  to-night,  for  instance,  I  would  like  to  look  in 
upon  you  aU  at  home,  and  teU  and  hear  a  thousand 
things  that  will  not  go  on  paper.  As  to  money,  you 
will  get  two  drafts,  one  in  London  and  one  in  Cologne. 
These  currencies  with  their  perpetual  changes  are 
great  nuisances.  First,  in  Belgium,  it  was  francs  and 
centimes ;  then,  in  Holland,  thalers  and  groschen ; 
then,  in  Prussia,  florins  and  kreutzers  ;  and  now  back 
to  thalers  and  groschen  again. 

I  received  a  weekly  "  Herald  "  to-day ;  many  thanks. 
Send  one  once  in  a  while,  say  once  a  month,  for  the 
only  paper  on  the  Continent  that  pretends  to  give 
American  news  is  the  London  "  Times." 

It  is  two  months  to-day  since  I  sailed.  How  they 
have  gone !  And  to  me  they  have  been  the  fullest 
months  of  my  life.  Not  a  day  without  something  that 
I  have  longed  all  my  life  to  see.  So  it  will  go  on  tiU 
I  see  the  sight  that  I  shall  be  most  glad  of  all  to 
see,  you  and  father  waiting  on  the  wharf  to  see  me 
land,  as  you  came  down  before  to  see  me  sail. 

Good-by;  love  in  lots  to  father  and  mother,  and 
Arthur  and  John  and  Trip,  and  Fred  when  you  writa 
God  bless  you  all.  Phill. 


BERLIN.  23 

Berlin, 
Tuesday,  October  17,  1865. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  will  begin  a  letter  here  and 
finish  it  in  Dresden,  where  I  go  to-day.  I  have  been 
here  since  Friday,  the  longest  stay  I  have  made  any- 
where since  I  left  London.  Let  me  see,  my  last  was 
to  William  from  Cassel,  a  week  ago  yesterday.  From 
there  I  went  to  Eisenach,  where  Luther's  prison  is 
in  the  old  Wartburg  Castle ;  then  to  Weimar,  where 
Goethe  and  Schiller  lived  ;  then  to  Leipsic,  where  the 
great  fair  was  going  on ;  then  to  Halle,  where  the 
university  is,  and  where  I  stayed  and  called  on  several 
of  the  professors,  to  whom  I  had  letters.  They  were 
very  cordial  and  pleasant,  and  I  enjoyed  my  visit  there 
very  much;  then  to  Wittenberg,  which  is  the  great 
shrine  of  Luther:  his  house  just  as  he  left  it,  the 
church  where  he  preached  and  nailed  his  Theses  to 
the  door,  his  grave,  his  monument,  and  countless  other 
memorials  of  him.  Melanchthon  lived  here  too,  and 
his  house  is  still  preserved.  Thence  to  Magdeburg, 
a  fine  old  town  with  a  fine  old  cathedral,  and  then  to 
this  Berlin,  the  Prussian  capital,  one  of  the  brightest 
and  most  beautiful  of  all  the  great  cities  of  Europe. 
I  am  staying  at  the  Hotel  du  Nord,  in  the  street  called 
Unter  den  Linden,  right  opposite  the  splendid  statue 
of  Frederick  the  Great,  and  in  view  of  a  dozen  noble 
buildings,  the  palace,  museum,  university,  etc.  Here 
is  one  of  the  great  picture  galleries,  which  I  have  ex- 
plored thoroughly  and  know  well.  I  have  been  to 
several  private  collections  besides.  There  are  many 
Americans  here.  I  went  to  a  soiree  on  Saturday 
evening  at  our  minister's.  Governor  Wright's,  and  met 
some  fifty.  I  have  also  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  family 
of  Dr.  Abbott,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter,  and  who  is 


24  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

a  capital  fellow.  I  have  dined  there  two  or  three 
times,  and  have  met  his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Fay,  for- 
merly our  minister  to  Switzerland,  who  has  given  me 
a  good  letter  to  Motley  in  Vienna.  You  see  I  do  not 
lack  for  company  and  friends.  I  found  that  the  Ger- 
mans were  much  interested  in  our  f  reedmen,  and  I  got 
quite  back  into  my  last  winter's  harness,  in  making  a 
speech  on  the  subject  to  a  meeting  of  German  gentle- 
men at  the  American  embassy.  Tell  Fred  I  used 
him.  These  Germans  are  with  us  out  and  out.  The 
professors  at  Halle  are  Abolitionists  of  the  strongest 
sort.  It  is  very  refreshing  to  be  with  them  after  be- 
ing in  England.  Berlin  is  a  charming  city,  the  head- 
quarters of  art  and  science  and  music.  I  went  to  a 
capital  concert  here  last  night.  I  almost  hate  to  leave 
the  town. 

I  get  no  letters  since  I  left  Frankfort,  and  shall 
not  now  till  next  week,  when  I  arrive  at  Munich.  I 
have  ordered  them  sent  there.  You  have  no  idea 
what  eras  in  a  traveler's  life  are  his  arrivals  at  places 
where  his  letters  meet  him.  I  always  rush  to  the 
banker's  for  them  the  first  thing. 

Munich,  Thursday  Evening,  October  26. 
I  beg  pardon  most  humbly  for  this  long  gap.  The 
truth  was  I  got  as  far  as  that,  and  then  went  to  dinner, 
my  last  day,  at  Dr.  Abbott's,  and  right  after  dinner 
left  Berlin  for  Dresden,  and  since  then  have  been  so 
busy  that  letter  writing  has  been  neglected.  I  reached 
here  yesterday,  and  found  letters  from  father  and 
mother  and  Fred  and  Franks,  all  in  one  bundle ;  and 
to-day  I  dropped  in  at  the  banker's  again  and  found 
William's  letter  of  the  3d ;  so  now  I  certainly  must 
write,  and  will  go  back  to  where  I  left  off  in  Berlin 


MUNICH.  25 

a  week  ago  last  Monday.  I  rode  direct  to  Dresden, 
where  I  spent  two  days ;  and  such  days  !  Oh,  if  you 
could  see  the  picture  gallery  there  !  it  has  the  picture  of 
the  world  which  I  have  waited  years  to  see,  Raphael's 
Madonna  di  San  Sisto.  I  will  not  say  anything  about 
it,  because  there  is  no  use  trying  to  tell  what  a  man 
feels  who  has  been  wanting  to  enjoy  something  for 
fifteen  years,  and  when  it  comes  finds  it  is  something 
unspeakably  beyond  what  he  had  dreamed. 

The  other  rooms  of  the  gallery  are  rich  in  the  great 
paintings  of  the  world.  Then  I  took  the  train  to 
Prague,  passing  into  Bohemia  and  showing  my  pass- 
port to  the  inquisitive  Austrian  officials  at  Bodenach. 
Prague  is  the  queerest  old  Austrian  town,  with  splen- 
did views,  grand  old  churches,  some  good  pictures,  fine 
palaces,  and  the  strangest  old  synagogue  in  Europe. 
Then  to  Nuremberg,  the  oldest-looking  town  on  the 
Continent ;  old  without  an  admixture  or  intrusion  of 
the  new,  to-day  as  completely  a  town  of  three  hundred 
years  ago  as  it  was  then.  Tell  William  to  read  you 
Longfellow^s  poem  of  "  Nuremberg  "  aloud  to-night, 
and  you  will  know  just  what  I  saw  and  how  I  felt. 
From  Nuremberg  to  Ratisbon,  another  of  the  very  old 
towns,  with  one  of  the  most  perfect  cathedrals  and 
the  Valhalla  or  Temple  of  Fame,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Danube.  Here  was  my  first  sight  of  the  great  river. 
Then  from  Ratisbon  here,  where  I  am  sitting  in  my 
room  of  the  third  story  of  the  Vierjahreszeiten  (that 
means  "  Four  Seasons  ")  Hotel,  writing  this  letter  to 
you.  Munich  is  in  its  beauty  a  new  town,  but  splen- 
didly full  of  interest.  Let  me  see.  Here  is  the  great 
Gallery  of  Old  Pictures,  the  Gallery  of  Moderns,  one 
of  the  great  sculpture  galleries  of  the  world,  the  great 
royal  foundry,  the  second  greatest  library,  the  largest 


26  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

bronze  statue,  the  finest  church  glass,  and  the  noblest 
public  buildings  in  Europe.  Is  that  enough,  and  is  n't 
this  last  a  week  to  cross  the  Atlantic  for  ?  Dresden, 
Prague,  Nuremberg,  and  Munich !  I  will  say  no  more 
about  them,  but  be  sure  I  am  very  well  contented  with 
my  lot. 

Your  letters  were  delightful  to  get.  I  could  see  you 
all  sitting  around  the  table  writing  them  and  talking 
as  the  work  went  on.  How  you  must  have  enjoyed 
your  visit  from  Fred !  I  am  very  glad  that  Franks 
went  on  with  him.  He  is  a  nice  boy,  a  great  pet  of 
mine,  and  more  than  that,  a  fellow  of  a  great  deal  of 
earnestness,  ability,  determination,  and  sterling  char- 
acter. You  may  well  be  glad  to  have  given  him  so 
much  enjoyment  as  he  seems  to  have  had  in  Boston. 
Of  course,  before  this  they  are  both  hard  at  work 
again  in  Philadelphia. 

I  shall  be  here  one  day  longer,  and  then  leave  for 
Salzburg,  Vienna,  Pesth,  and  Trieste,  whence  I  expect 
to  sail  on  the  10th  of  November  for  the  great  East. 
You  will  gather  from  my  letter  that  all  goes  well  and 
I  am  very  happy.  There  has  not  been  an  hour  since 
I  left  New  York  that  has  not  been  full  of  pleasure,  not 
a  day  that  has  not  been  lighted  up  by  seeing  some  of 
the  sights  for  which  I  have  longed.  And  all  the  East 
and  Italy  and  France  and  much  of  England  and  Swit- 
zerland is  yet  in  store.     Hurrah ! 

This  place  is  full  of  English  and  Americans.  I  had 
a  discussion  at  the  table  d'hote  yesterday  with  an 
English  gentleman,  during  which  lots  of  American 
secessionists  got  up  and  left.  General  McClellan  is  in 
Dresden,  but  I  did  not  see  him,  and  slept  soundly  in 
the  same  city  with  the  great  Coppery  hero. 

I  have  a  letter  from  Mr.  Coffin,  who  reports  all  well 


ON  THE  DANUBE.  27 

in  the  church  matters.  He  says  Dr.  Butler  is  doing 
everything  there  is  to  do,  so  I  feel  easier  to  be  wan- 
dering about  here  in  this  delightful  way. 

And  now  good-night.  Before  you  get  this  I  shall 
be  on  my  way  to  the  Lands  of  the  Sun.  Think  of  me, 
pray  for  me,  and  write  to  me.  God  bless  you,  and 
keep  us  all,  and  bring  us  safe  together  again  by  and 
by.    Lots  of  love  to  all.  Phillips. 

Poor  Trip ! ! 

Steamboat  Francis-Joseph,  on  the  Danube, 
Sunday,  November  5,  1865. 

Dear  Wllliam,  —  This  is  the  funniest  yet.  Here 
I  am  fairly  on  my  way  to  the  East.  I  am  sitting  in 
a  little  cabin,  with  a  perfect  Babel  about  me.  Every 
language  except  English  is  in  my  ears,  German, 
Italian,  French,  Hungarian,  Greek,  and  I  know  not 
how  many  more  besides.  Outside  it  is  raining  guns. 
The  old  river  is  broad,  shallow,  and  vilely  muddy. 
The  banks  are  low  and  gravelly,  except  where  here 
and  there  the  great  Carpathian  Mountains  gather 
down  about  the  stream  and  make  a  grand  gorge 
where  the  river  goes  whirling  and  dashing  through. 
We  have  just  done  breakfast,  which  is  served  at  ten 
o'clock,  with  meats  and  poor  Hungarian  wines. 
Every  now  and  then  we  pass  a  miserable  little  Turk- 
ish village,  with  its  dirty,  strange-dressed  peasants. 
It  is  not  much  like  Sunday  morning,  but  I  must 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  do  not  know  how  I  can  use  it 
better  than  by  writing  home,  so  here  goes. 

You  have  kept  the  run  of  me,  I  hope,  as  far  as 
Munich,  the  most  beautiful  of  German  cities.  From 
there  I  took  the  train  to  Salzburg,  where  I  spent  two 
days.  One  of  them  was  occupied  in  a  long  excursion 
to  the  Konigsee,  a  lake  in  the  Styrian  Alps,  shut  in 


28  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

by  snowy-topped  mountains,  with  glaciers  all  down 
their  sides.  The  lake  itseK  is  lovely,  with  its  deep 
green  waters,  and  picturesque  Tyrolese  boatmen  row 
you  up  to  its  head  and  back  again.  Then  you  stop 
and  dine  at  a  little  Alpine  cottage  inn  at  the  foot, 
and  after  dinner  drive  to  Berchtesgaden,  where  the 
great  salt  mines  are.  Here  you  dress  up  in  full 
miner's  rig,  and  walk  a  mile  or  two  into  the  heart  of 
a  mountain,  and  then,  sitting  down  on  two  parallel 
bars  with  a  man  in  front  to  hold  your  legs,  you  slide 
like  lightning  down  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth  and 
come  to  a  great  salt  lake  (lit  up  by  hundreds  of 
lamps)  which  you  are  rowed  across  by  two  subterra- 
nean beings  who  look  like  fiends ;  then  another  walk 
and  another  slide  bring  you  to  a  vast  temple,  no- 
body knows  how  far  under  ground,  with  a  dome  of 
infinite  darkness,  where  some  more  fiends  are  draw- 
ing up  the  salt  rock  from  unfathomable  depths  still 
below.  All  the  way,  as  your  lamp  shines  on  the 
walls  or  ceilings,  they  sparkle  all  over  with  the  pre- 
cious crystals ;  then  some  more  avenues,  till  you 
reach  the  salt  grotto  where  the  choicest  specimens 
have  been  collected,  and  there  you  sit  down  on  a 
little  railway  car,  which  plunges  along  with  you 
through  the  mountain  till  it  whirls  you  at  last  out 
into  daylight,  and  your  visit  to  the  great  salt  mines 
is  over.  It  is  one  of  the  most  unique  and  splendid 
things  to  do  in  Europe.  I  would  n't  have  missed  its 
interest  and  beauty  for  anything.  My  second  day  in 
Salzburg  was  Sunday.  I  went  to  all  the  churches 
and  heard  their  services  and  music,  and  saw  the 
people  in  their  holiday  dress.  Of  course  it  is  all 
Roman  Catholic  ;  there  is  nothing  Protestant  in  the 
town.     In  the  afternoon  I  went  up  to  the  great  castle 


VIENNA.  29 

and  saw  the  view,  which  is  one  of  the  noblest  on  the 
Continent.  Then  I  hunted  up  the  grave  of  old  Para- 
celsus, the  middle-age  magician,  and  his  house,  where 
I  amazed  an  old  German  lady  by  insisting  on  seeing 
his  room,  which  I  succeeded  in  doing  and  in  which  I 
was  much  interested.  Then  to  the  houses  where 
Mozart  was  born  and  where  he  lived,  and  wound  up 
by  following  a  funeral  procession,  which  went  chanting 
with  banners  and  incense  through  the  town,  into  an 
old  graveyard  behind  one  of  the  churches. 

From  Salzburg  by  Linz  to  Vienna.  What  shall  I 
say  about  Vienna?  Here  is  another  of  the  great 
picture  galleries,  with  its  Raphaels,  Titians,  Rem- 
brandts,  Rubenses,  and  countless  others,  whom  one 
learns  to  know  and  admire  in  these  splendid  collec- 
tions. Pictures  and  churches  are  the  two  great 
attractions  of  these  old  towns.  Vienna  has  a  grand 
old  cathedral  with  the  most  beautiful  of  Gothic  spires. 
I  was  there  on  All  Saints'  Day  and  heard  high  mass, 
with  an  old  cardinal  officiating,  and  a  full  band  and 
splendid  choir  of  men  and  boys  doing  the  music. 

The  next  day  was  All  Souls',  when  the  Romish 
Church  commemorates  the  dead.  All  the  churches 
were  draped  in  mourning,  masses  were  sung,  the 
graveyards  were  full  of  people,  and  in  one  of  the 
churches  the  vaults  were  thrown  open  and  the  coffins 
of  the  Austrian  emperors  from  time  immemorial 
were  shown  to  hosts  of  people,  who  crawled  down  to 
see  them,  among  whom  was  I.  In  Munich  they  do 
better  still,  and  show  you  the  very  corpses  of  their 
emperors  preserved  in  glass  chests  full  of  spirits.  I 
did  not  see  their  majesties,  but  I  saw  an  old  saint, 
six  hundred  years  old,  kept  in  this  way  in  one  of 
the  churches.     Vienna  is  great  in  relics.     A  piece  of 


30  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

the  tablecloth  of  the  Last  Supper,  a  piece  of  John 
the  Baptist's  robes,  St.  Anne's  arm-bone,  nails  from 
the  Cross,  a  large  piece  of  the  Cross,  and  lots  of 
others,  —  all  these  are  used  at  the  coronations  of  the 
emperors.  I  dined  at  Vienna  with  Mr.  Motley  of 
the  "  Dutch  Republic,"  who  is  our  minister  there, 
and  found  him  full  of  hospitality  and  very  pleasant. 
I  had  a  letter  to  him  from  Mr.  Fay  in  Berlin.  I 
stayed  here  three  days,  and  bought  my  last  outfits, 
thick  boots,  blankets,  etc.,  for  the  East. 

At  Vienna  I  met  Dr.  Leeds  of  Philadelphia  (for- 
merly of  Salem),  who  is  also  for  the  East,  and  we 
joined  company  for  the  present.  It  is  almost  neces- 
sary, and  certainly  a  great  deal  cheaper,  to  have 
some  company  in  Syria.  We  left  Vienna  on  Friday, 
and  concluded  to  go  down  the  Danube  to  Constanti- 
nople, thence  by  steamer  to  Beyrout,  thence  through 
Syria  to  Jerusalem,  getting  to  Bethlehem  at  Christ- 
mas, when  there  is  a  great  service  there ;  then  to 
Jaffa,  and  thence  to  Egypt ;  then  Greece,  and  so  back 
to  Italy.  We  took  rail  to  Pesth  and  then  to  Baziasch 
on  the  river,  where  we  took  a  steamer  which  carries 
us  to  Tchernavoda,  whence  we  cross  by  rail  to  Kus- 
tenji  on  the  Black  Sea,  where  another  steamer  meets 
and  takes  us  down  to  Constantinople.  (Can  you  find 
these  places  on  the  map  ?)  We  have  begun  to  find 
the  delays  and  the  irregularities  of  Eastern  travel. 
Already  we  have  changed  our  steamer  three  times  as 
the  river  became  shallower  or  deeper.  Last  night 
we  reached  Orsova  at  about  dusk,  and  to  our  surprise 
found  that  the  boats  did  n't  travel  after  dark,  so  we 
laid  up  there  till  morning.  We  shall  probably  reach 
Constantinople  on  Wednesday  night  instead  of  Tues- 
day morning,  as  we  were  told.     I  think  it  very  proba< 


IN  THE  BOSPHORUS.  31 

ble  that  our  course  may  be  so  slow  that  I  shall  give 
up  Egypt  and  sail  right  from  Jaffa  to  Greece,  but  I 
cannot  tell.  I  don't  worry  ahead.  Italy  is  before  me 
all  the  while,  and  I  must  get  a  great  deal  of  time 
there.  I  do  not  care  as  much  for  Egypt.  I  cer- 
tainly shall  not  go  up  the  Nile,  so  tell  mother  she 
need  not  worry  about  the  Pyramids. 

My  next  letters  from  home  will  not  reach  me  till  I 
get  to  Alexandria  or  Athens,  so  I  am  shut  off  from 
communication  with  home  till  then,  but  you  will  hear 
from  me.  I  received  yours  and  father's  and  mother's 
letters  in  Vienna,  and  am  glad  to  hear  of  all  being  so 
well.  Keep  on  writing  ;  I  shall  get  them  some  time  or 
other.  I  believe  none  have  missed  me  yet,  and  if  you 
could  see  how  glad  I  am  to  get  them,  you  would  not 
mind  writing. 

We  crossed  the  Turkish  line  this  morning,  so  we 
are  in  the  Sultan's  dominions  now.  Our  passports 
bear  his  stamp,  and  we  feel  already  like  Turks.  How 
far  off  it  seems !  I  shall  not  have  a  chance  to  mail 
this  till  we  get  to  Constantinople,  and  before  you  get 
it  I  shall  be  in  the  Holy  Land.  Think  of  me  there, 
and  be  sure  that  I  am  thinking  of  you  aU. 

I  am  perfectly  well  and  ready  for  anything.  Three 
months  next  Thursday  since  I  sailed.  What  a  three 
months  they  have  been.  Nine  more  like  them,  and 
then  I  will  come  back  to  work  again.  May  God  keep 
us  aU. 

Phill. 


In  the  Bosphorus, 
Thursday,  November  9,  1865. 

I  open  this  to  tell  you  that  with  many  delays  and 
disappointments  we  have  come  thus  far.     We  finished 


82  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

our  sail  on  the  Danube  on  Tuesday  about  noon,  and 
landing  at  Tchernavoda  took  tlie  railway  across  the 
Peninsula  to  Kustenji.  It  was  funny  to  find  an 
English-built  railway  here,  with  English  conductors 
and  engineers  in  turbans.  We  had  gone  about  five 
miles  when  we  came  down  with  a  thump,  and  found 
that  the  train  had  i*un  off  the  track  and  broken  the 
rails  to  pieces,  so  we  had  to  wait  there  all  day  till 
another  train  could  be  sent  for,  and  we  did  not  reach 
the  Black  Sea  till  nine  o'clock  at  night.  We  took 
ship  at  once,  and  yesterday  had  the  most  pleasant  sail 
down  to  the  Bosphorus,  which  we  entered  just  at  four 
o'clock,  and  sailed  as  far  as  this  place,  whose  name  I 
can't  find  out,  about  halfway  down  the  Bosphorus, 
where  we  were  quarantined  last  night,  and  this  morn- 
ing are  waiting  for  the  fog  to  clear  away  to  go  on  to 
Constantinople,  which  is  only  an  hour  off.  Think  of 
that !  This  will  be  mailed  from  among  the  minarets, 
and  before  to-night  I  hope  to  see  the  Mosque  of  St. 
Sophia  and  look  upon  the  dancing  dervishes. 

Before  you  get  this.  Thanksgiving  will  have  come 
and  passed.  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  one.  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  be  only  just  in  time  if  I  wish  you  now  a 
merry  Christmas.  So  I  do  with  all  my  heart.  I  shall 
spend  mine  in  Bethlehem. 

Constantinople, 
Sunday,  November  12. 

There  has  been  no  mail  before  to-night,  so  I  open 
this  again  to  say  we  have  been  three  days  here  in 
Constantinople.  They  have  been  very  full  of  sight- 
seeing. It  is  the  strangest  life  to  look  at,  and  like 
a  dream  every  hour.  I  have  seen  St.  Sophia,  the 
bazaars,  the  howling  dervishes,  the  dancing  dervishes, 
the  Sultan,  and  much  besides,  of  which  I  will  tell  you 


SMYRNA.  33 

some  otlier  time.  To-morrow  we  leave  for  Smyrna. 
I  received  the  American  papers  from  our  minister 
here,  and  shall  get  your  letters  when  I  reach  Alex- 
andria, or  Athens,  about  New  Year's. 

I  have  met  here  a  young  Mr.  W.  S.  Appleton  of 
Boston,  son  of  Nathan  Appleton,  I  believe,  who  joins 
us  in  our  trip  to  Syria.  He  is  a  good  fellow,  so  with 
our  dragoman  and  servants  we  shall  make  a  strong 
party.     Good-by  for  the  third  time.     Love  to  all. 

Phill. 

Smyrna,  Sunday  Afternoon, 
November  19,  1865. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  will  just  begin  a  letter  now, 
though  I  do  not  know  whence  or  when  I  can  send  it  to 
you.  It  will  seem  a  little  like  talking  to  you  to  be 
writing  it,  at  any  rate.  I  am  here  in  Smyrna,  and  just 
now  especially  full  of  the  trip  I  made  yesterday  to 
Ephesus.  So  I  will  begin  with  that.  They  have  a  rail- 
way to  within  three  miles,  and  we  took  the  train  early 
in  the  morning  to  Ayasoluk,  a  miserable  little  Turk- 
ish village,  whose  only  interest  is  an  old  ruined  castle, 
and  the  remains  of  a  mosque  which  is  built  on  the  site 
of  the  church  where  St.  John  the  Evangelist  preached, 
and  under  which  he  is  said  to  be  buried.  We  cannot, 
of  course,  be  sure  of  it,  but  it  seems  by  no  means  un- 
likely ;  and  I  chose,  as  I  stood  there,  to  believe  it  true. 
Then  we  rode  on  horseback  across  a  broad  plain, 
where  the  great  city  once  stood,  and  where  now  there 
is  not  a  trace  of  life  save  here  and  there  a  poor  Turk 
straggling  about  in  the  lazy  way  of  this  wretched 
people.  We  came  finally  to  a  pass  between  two  hills, 
and  here  the  ruins  began.  We  had  only  tvv  o  hours  to 
examine  them,  and  many  of  the  sites  are  doubtful.  The 


84  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

great  Temple  of  Diana  is  altogether  gone ;  but  the 
one  thing  most  certain  of  all,  about  which  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  is  the  theatre  where  the  great  meeting  was 
held,  in  the  Book  of  Acts,  and  where  Paul  tried  to  go 
in  to  the  people.  There  it  is,  a  vast  amphitheatre  in 
the  side  of  the  hill,  in  ruins  of  course,  but  as  clearly 
and  evidently  the  theatre  as  it  was  the  day  he  saw  it. 
Then  there  is  the  market-place  where  Demetrius  ad- 
dressed the  craftsmen  ;  and  they  point  out  also  the 
School  of  Tyrannus,  where  Paul  taught. 

They  show  you  also  the  tomb  of  Mary  Magdalene, 
but  this  is  uncertain.  The  theatre  is  the  one  certain 
building  which  is  referred  to  in  the  Bible  story. 
Many  of  the  ruins  of  other  buildings,  temples,  race- 
courses, gymnasia,  etc.,  are  very  beautiful,  and  the 
situation  of  the  old  city  must  have  been  charming. 
Was  not  this  worth  seeing?  Even  coming  a  good 
way  for  ?  And  now  to  tell  you  how  we  came  here. 
Our  steamer  left  Constantinople  last  Monday  after- 
noon, sailed  down  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  through  the 
Dardanelles,  past  the  plain  of  Troy,  where  you  see  the 
whole  scene  of  the  old  war,  and  the  funeral  mounds 
still  standing  on  the  shore,  by  the  islands  of  Lemnos, 
Imbros,  and  Tenedos,  keeping  inside  of  them.  The  sea 
was  very  rough,  and  we  were  at  last  obliged  to  come 
to  anchor  in  a  little  bay  between  Mitylene  and  the 
mainland.  (St.  Paul  stopped  at  Mitylene,  you  know.) 
Here  we  had  to  stay  thirty-six  hours,  waiting  for 
smoother  weather.  We  went  ashore  and  roamed  about, 
but  there  was  not  much  to  see, — Turks,  and  their  huts 
and  camels  and  donkeys. 

We  sailed  on  Thursday  morning  again,  and  Friday 
morning  landed  here  at  Smyrna.  I  wish  you  could 
see  this   town ;  it   is   the    strangest   mixture   in   the 


SMYRNA.  35 

world.  Turks,  Greeks,  and  Armenians,  in  their 
strange  costumes,  fill  the  little  dirty  streets.  The  ba- 
zaars are  full  of  cross-legged  merchants  praising  their 
wares  in  all  sorts  of  gibberish :  Persian  carpets,  shawls, 
slippers,  with  figs,  fruits,  and  spices,  all  of  the  East, 
Eastern.  Every  now  and  then  a  long  caravan  of  cam- 
els laden  with  bales  goes  winding  through,  just  arrived 
from  Persia,  with  its  wild-looking  drivers  shouting 
and  screaming  to  make  way  for  them.  This  morning, 
we  went  to  the  English  chapel,  which  is  at  the  English 
consulate,  and  heard  a  sermon  from  the  old  chaplain 
who  has  been  here  for  thirty  years.  This  afternoon, 
to  the  Armenian  church,  where  there  was  a  strange 
sort  of  service  going  on  in  their  native  language.  The 
strangest  services  I  have  seen  were  those  of  the  howl- 
ing dervishes  and  the  whirling  dervishes  in  Constan- 
tinople. They  are  a  kind  of  order  of  Mohammedans ; 
the  former  make  all  their  worship  consist  in  working 
themselves  up  into  frenzy  by  roaring  and  screaming  ; 
the  latter,  by  whirling  round  and  round  their  church 
tiU  they  are  dizzy.  I  saw  both,  and  shall  never  see 
anything  more  curious  in  the  way  of  religious  service. 
In  Constantinople,  I  went  all  over  the  great  Mosque 
of  St.  Sophia,  the  greatest  of  mosques,  originally  built 
for  a  Christian  church,  and  still  having  many  crosses 
and  other  Christian  symbols  uneffaced  upon  its  walls. 
It  is  very  curious  and  impressive,  and  very  sacred 
among  the  Mohammedans.  Here,  and  in  all  their 
sacred  buildings,  you  have  to  take  off  your  shoes  and 
enter  in  stocking-feet. 

We  live  oddly  here.  Our  fare  everywhere  is  a  mix- 
ture of  French  and  Turkish  diet,  and  as  unlike  home 
as  you  can  conceive.  On  board  boat  we  rise  about 
eight,  and  find  a  cup  of  coffee  waiting  in  the  cabin. 


36  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

That  is  all  till  ten,  when  we  have  a  full  meal,  fish, 
meat,  pastiy,  fruit,  and  wine.  Then  at  five  or  six  a 
dinner  of  about  the  same,  and  in  the  evening  tea,  so 
you  see  we  do  not  suffer.  Traveling  here  in  the  East 
is  very  slow  and  very  expensive ;  but  now  that  I  am 
here,  I  had  better  do  it  thoroughly,  and  it  is  all  inter- 
esting. We  were  two  days  behind  time  in  reaching 
this  place,  and  shall  be  slow  in  getting  to  Beyrout. 
The  ^gean  is  the  most  uncertain  sea  in  the  world, 
but  I  shall  certainly  spend  Christmas  at  Betlilehem, 
and  Thanksgiving  probably  at  Damascus.  I  am  quite 
well  off  for  company  with  Dr.  Leeds  and  Mr.  Apple  ton, 
who  joined  us  at  Constantinople.  I  am  perfectly  well 
and  am  having  a  splendid  time. 

On  Board  Steamer  Godavert, 
Monday,  November  20. 

We  came  aboard  the  steamer  this  morning  to  sail 
for  Beyrout.  She  is  a  French  steamer  just  arrived 
from  Marseilles,  and  going  to  Alexandria.  I  wish 
you  could  see  this  bay  of  Smyrna,  this  lovely  morning. 
Everything  is  as  perfect  as  a  picture,  and  the  air  on 
deck  is  like  the  softest  summer.  We  shall  be  four  or 
five  days  on  board,  if  all  goes  well,  and  I  look  forward 
to  it  with  much  enjoyment.  This  morning,  as  we 
sat  at  breakfast,  you  would  have  liked  to  see  a  big 
mulatto  come  in  and  be  greeted  by  the  captain  and 
officers  with  immense  respect  as  "  Pasha,"  and  take 
his  seat  alongside  of  my  friend  Dr.  Leeds,  and  eat  his 
breakfast  with  us  in  the  most  composed  and  matter- 
of-course  way.  I  wondered  what  they  would  have  said 
to  it  in  Philadelphia  ? 


ON  BOARD  STEAMER   GOD  AVERY.  37 

Wednesday,  November  22. 

We  are  still  pushing  along  towards  Bey  rout.  The 
weather  so  far  has  been  delightful,  and  the  sea  not  at 
all  rough.  The  scenery  is  perfect,  as  we  go  winding 
along  among  the  many  islands,  every  one  of  them  a 
place  of  some  old  associations,  the  most  interesting 
we  have  seen,  but  I  was  sorry  to  pass  by  Patmos  (where 
St.  John  was  banished  and  wrote  the  Revelation)  in 
the  night,  so  that  we  saw  nothing  of  it.  Yesterday  we 
stopped  two  hours  at  Rhodes,  but  the  quarantine  is  in 
force  there  at  present  and  we  were  not  allowed  to  land. 
Just  enough  cholera  remains  hanging  about  these 
parts  to  keep  the  quarantine  alive,  and  that  is  the 
only  danger  from  it  now.  I  hear  there  is  a  ten  days' 
quarantine  in  Greece,  which  will  seriously  inconve- 
nience me  if  I  go  there.  The  fear  seems  to  be  that 
the  cholera  will  just  linger  along  through  the  winter, 
and  then  break  out  with  more  violence  next  summer. 
However,  I  am  in  no  danger  now,  nor  shall  be  while  I 
am  in  the  East. 

Thursday,  November  23. 

Here  we  are,  laid  by  for  a  day  to  discharge  and  re- 
ceive cargo  at  Messina,  which  you  will  find  ahnost  at 
the  very  northeast  corner  of  the  Levant.  The  place, 
which  we  can  see  plainly  from  the  ship,  is  a  little 
straggling  village  with  its  mosque.  Lines  of  camels 
are  continually  winding  in  and  out,  carrying  back  into 
the  interior  the  goods  we  bring.  The  only  interest  of 
the  country  is,  that  just  behind  those  hills  there  lies 
the  old  town  of  Tarsus,  where  St.  Paul  was  bom,  and 
where  there  still  stands  an  old  church,  which  they  say 
he  built.  We  have  no  time  to  go  there,  and  must  be 
content  to  know  just  where  it  lies.     In  the  distance  the 


38  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Taurus  Mountains,  covered  with  snow,  are  very  grand. 
The  weather  is  superb,  as  soft  as  June.  Last  night 
was  the  most  gorgeous  starlight  I  ever  saw. 

Saturday,  November  25. 

I  must  finish  this  letter  now,  for  to-night  we  shall 
be  at  Beyrout,  and  I  must  mail  it.  AU  day  yesterday 
we  were  lying  in  front  of  Alexandretta  (Iskanderoon), 
the  port  of  Aleppo,  where  we  discharged  part  of  our 
cargo  and  took  on  board  a  lot  of  cotton.  We  went 
ashore  and  wandered  about  the  picturesque  and  dirty 
little  Turkish  town.  It  had  a  quaint  old  bazaar,  as 
all  these  places  have,  where  the  business  of  the  place 
is  carried  on.  Palm-trees,  camels,  and  women  muffled 
in  white  with  only  the  eyes  looking  out,  and  aU  soHs 
of  odd  male  costumes,  made  it  a  very  Eastern  pic- 
ture. The  day  was  oppressively  hot,  like  August  in 
Boston. 

We  sailed  at  night,  and  arrived  early  this  morning 
at  Latakia,  a  pretty  little  town  among  the  trees,  with 
mosques  and  minarets  and  an  old  castle.  Here  we 
only  stayed  two  hours,  and  then  started  again  for  Bey- 
rout. We  stopped  once  more  at  Tripolis.  At  Bey- 
rout our  voyage  ends.  There  we  shall  get  a  drago- 
man and  horses,  and  ride  down  the  coast  to  Sidon  and 
Tyre ;  then  by  the  moimtains  up  northeast  to  Baalbec  ; 
from  there  to  Lebanon  and  the  Cedars ;  then  down  to 
Damascus ;  thence  across  to  the  Lake  of  Galilee  and 
Tiberias,  to  Nazareth,  to  Mt.  Carmel  on  the  coast; 
from  there  to  Samaria,  and  thence  down  to  Jerusalem. 
That  is  our  route  now,  but  it  may  be  altered.  Does  n't 
it  soimd  interesting?  It  wiU  take  in  all  about  three 
weeks,  and  I  will  write  again  from  Jerusalem.  Now 
good-by.     I  am  very  well,  and  think  much  of  you  aU. 


DAMASCUS.  39 

God  bless  and  keep  you  all,  and  bring  us  together 
again.     Love  to  all.  Your  loving  son, 

Phillips. 

Grand  Hotel  de  Damas, 
Sunday  Evening,  December  3,  1865. 

Dear  Father,  —  Here  I  am  in  Damascus.  I 
have  reached  the  most  easterly  point  of  all  my 
travels.  I  am  in  the  oldest  city  of  the  world,  and 
will  write  you  how  I  reached  here  and  what  it 
looks  like.  My  last,  which  I  suppose  was  sent  from 
Beyrout,  was  written  on  the  steamer  from  Smyrna. 
We  landed  at  Beyrout  a  week  ago  to-day,  and  went 
to  church  in  the  morning  at  the  American  mission, 
and  in  the  afternoon  at  the  English  consulate.  We 
had  a  host  of  dragomans  about  us,  and  selecting 
one,  we  set  him  at  work  to  make  his  preparations 
for  our  long  Syrian  journey.  We  engage  him  to 
take  us  to  Jaffa,  paying  all  charges  at  an  expense 
of  five  pounds  ten  shillings  per  day  for  the  party. 
Monday  we  spent  in  making  our  arrangements,  trying 
horses,  getting  our  contract  with  the  dragoman  cer- 
tified before  the  American  consul,  etc.,  etc. 

Tuesday  morning  early  our  party  might  have  been 
jjeen  mounting  and  making  ready  for  departure  at  the 
door  of  the  Hotel  de  I'Orient,  surrounded  by  a  great 
crowd  of  curious  natives.  Let  me  tell  you  of  what  our 
caravan  consists.  Remember,  we  are  to  travel  thirty 
days  or  more,  dependent  almost  wholly  upon  what  we 
carry  with  us.  First,  of  the  animals  :  there  are  six 
horses,  six  mules,  and  two  donkeys.  The  six  horses 
are  ridden  by  Dr.  Leeds,  Mr.  Appleton,  and  Francois 
his  French  courier ;  by  P.  B.,  and  Ibrahim  Amatury, 
our    native   dragoman,   an    invaluable    person,   who 


40  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

speaks  many  languages  and  does  all  sorts  of  things ; 
and  Achmet,  the  muleteer,  who  owns  the  horses  and 
goes  with  us  to  look  after  their  welfare.  Scattered 
about  among  the  animals  come  our  other  attendants, 
namely,  Antonio,  the  cook,  a  native  of  Bagdad,  and 
Luin  his  waiter,  Ibrahim,  Luttuf,  a  boy  from  Damas- 
cus who  sings  Arabic  love  songs,  Hoseim,  and  Elias, 
these  last  four,  mule  drivers  and  general  servants. 
So  our  whole  corps,  you  see,  is  twelve.  Our  baggage 
always  starts  off  first,  and  we  follow  in  an  hour  or 
two.  Then  we  stop  to  lunch  at  midday,  and  let  them 
get  ahead  again,  and  arrive  at  our  camping-place  for 
the  night  to  find  the  tents  all  pitched  and  dinner 
ready.  Our  horses  are  good.  I  am  mounted  on  a 
bay  horse  (not  quite  as  big  as  Robin),  which 
would  n't  make  much  show  on  the  Mill  Dam,  but  has 
stood  it  splendidly,  so  far,  over  these  hard  roads. 

We  left  Beyrout  early  this  morning  on  the  road 
which  a  French  company  have  built  all  the  way  to 
Damascus.  We  kept  this  road  all  day.  We  wound 
up  Mt.  Lebanon  by  slow  degrees,  through  olive  groves 
and  mulberry-trees,  with  the  snowy  summits  of  the 
highest  peaks  looking  down  upon  us,  passing  several 
monasteries,  which  swarm  all  along  these  hills.  At 
noon  we  made  our  first  halt,  and  lunched  at  the 
Khan  Sheik  Mahmoud,  a  rude  sort  of  lodging-place 
halfway  up.  About  three  in  the  afternoon,  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  range,  and  began  to  descend 
into  the  valley  between  Lebanon  and  Anti-Lebanon, 
called,  of  old,  Coele-Syria.  Here  Mt.  Hermon  first 
loomed  in  sight,  with  its  great  round  snow-covered  top 
off  to  the  southeast.  At  the  foot  of  Lebanon  we  came 
to  the  little  village  of  Mecseh,  just  outside  of  which  we 
pitched  our  first  camp  and  spent  the  night.     We  were 


BAALBEC.  41 

a  very  picturesque  group,  I  assure  you,  by  our  night 
fire,  with  our  Syrians  in  their  striking  costumes  and 
the  wild  mountain  rising  behind  us.  We  have  two 
large  tents :  Dr.  Leeds,  Appleton,  and  I  sleep  in 
one,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  in  the  other.  We 
live  well,  our  cook  is  firstrate,  and  provisions  are 
plenty.  The  middle  of  the  day  is  intensely  warm, 
the  nights  very  cold,  but  the  weather  so  far  splendidly 
clear. 

Wednesday  morning  we  were  off  again  early,  and 
leaving  the  French  road  soon  struck  off  through  the 
town  of  Zahleh,  and  so  along  up  the  valley  towards 
Baalbec.  We  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  a  little  vil- 
lage to  see  what  they  call  "  Noah's  Tomb,"  which  is 
a  queer  thing  in  a  long  house ;  a  kind  of  gi*ave,  about 
fifty  yards  long,  in  which  they  say  the  patriarch  was 
buried.  He  must  have  been  about  as  long  as  St.  Paul's 
church.  It  is  a  sacred  place  and  covered  all  over  with 
offerings.  We  stopped  this  day  to  lunch  by  an  old 
mill  on  the  river  Litany,  and  then,  after  a  long,  hot 
afternoon  ride,  about  five  o'clock  we  saw  before  us 
the  ruins  of  Baalbec.  We  galloped  in,  pitched  our 
tents  in  the  great  court  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  and 
ate  our  dinner  in  sight  of  the  grand  remains.  I  can- 
not describe  to  you  the  splendor  of  the  moonlight  that 
night,  as  we  roamed  about  and  saw  the  Temple  of  the 
Sun,  with  its  enormous  columns,  and  the  Temple  of 
Jupiter  close  by  it,  both  in  ruins,  but  both  sublime. 
We  slept  well  in  the  old  temple  court.  Our  guides 
told  us  of  a  jackal  prowling  around  at  night,  but  I 
cannot  boast  of  having  seen  him.  I  wish  I  had. 
Right  opposite  we  saw  the  snowy  hills  on  which  the 
Lebanon  cedars  grew,  but  had  no  time  to  visit  them. 

Thursday,  Thanksgiving  Day,  we  thought  much  of 


42  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

America  and  home.  We  spent  the  forenoon  in  care- 
fully going  over  the  ruins,  which  are  immense  and 
very  beautiful.  At  noon  we  took  horses,  and  now 
began,  striking  for  Damascus,  to  cross  the  Anti- 
Lebanon  range.  We  lunched  under  a  fine  old  walnut- 
tree,  two  houi-s  from  Baalbec,  in  the  midst  of  a  hot 
and  stony  plain.  Then  crossing  another  ridge,  on  the 
top  of  which  we  saw  the  mosque  which  contains  the 
tomb  of  Seth,  the  son  of  Adam,  we  came  by  a  steep, 
zigzag  Roman  road  into  the  loveliest  little  green  valley, 
up  which  we  rode  to  the  town  of  Sigaya,  where  we 
encamped  that  night,  and  while  our  Thanksgiving 
dinner  was  getting  ready  roamed  about  the  little 
town,  to  the  great  wonder  and  bewilderment  of  the 
people,  who  came  about  us  in  crowds.  These  Syrian 
villages  are  the  most  miserable  places  on  earth. 
As  soon  as  you  enter  one,  the  children  turn  out  at 
your  heels,  crying,  "  Backsheesh,"  and  the  squalid,  half- 
dressed  men  and  women  creep  to  the  doors  and  gaze 
vacantly  at  you.  The  houses  are  of  mud  and  stones, 
one  story  high,  so  that  you  see  the  tops  of  the  houses 
as  you  ride,  with  sometimes  a  Moslem  on  them  say- 
ing his  prayers  towards  Mecca,  or  a  lazy  group  cook- 
ing themselves  in  the  sun.  Our  Thanksgiving  dinner 
was  a  great  success.  We  had  brought  a  turkey  es- 
pecially from  Beyrout,  and  a  choice  bottle  of  wine. 
Antoine  made  us  a  superb  plum  pudding,  we  drank 
everybody's  health  at  home,  and  were  supremely  par 
triotic.  Then  we  smoked  our  pipes  and  went  to  bed, 
and  I  for  one  dreamed  I  was  in  America. 

Friday  morning  early,  off  again  up  the  vaUey  of 
Sigaya,  past  several  little  villages,  over  hot  stones,  tiU 
we  lunched  by  a  heap  of  rocks  in  an  open  field,  the 
only  shade  for  miles  and  miles.     Then  in  the  after- 


DAMASCUS.  43 

noon  we  began  to  get  into  a  deep  gorge,  and  soon 
came  to  a  fine  waterfall,  and  so  felt  we  were  getting 
somewhere  near  Damascus,  because  this  was  the  river 
Barada,  formerly  the  Abana.  ("  Are  not  Abana  and 
Pharphar,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the 
waters  of  Israel  ?  ") 

We  kept  along  this  stream,  passed  the  old  town  of 
Abila,  the  scenery  growing  finer  and  finer  all  the 
afternoon.  On  a  hilltop  close  by  we  saw  the  old  tomb 
of  Abel,  the  son  of  Adam,  and  so  about  dusk  came  to 
the  beautiful  fountain  of  El  Fijeh,  where  we  camped. 
It  is  a  spring  gushing  out  of  the  rock,  over  which  stand 
two  ruined  temples,  surrounded  by  deep  groves.  It  is 
one  of  the  sources  of  the  Abana.  We  slept  here,  and 
the  next  morning  left  early,  crossed  the  last  range  of 
Anti-Lebanon,  and,  as  we  climbed  the  final  peak  and 
stood  beside  a  little  ruined  dome  upon  its  top,  there 
was  Damascus  in  the  valley,  with  its  beauty  all  about 
it.  No  city  ever  looked  so  lovely  ;  a  broad  girdle  of 
gardens  encircles  it,  and  its  domes  and  minarets  fill 
up  the  picture  within,  while  the  Abana  on  one  side 
and  the  Pharphar  on  the  other  come  bringing  their 
tribute  of  waters  to  it.  We  were  soon  down  the  hill, 
and  a  quick  trot  carried  us  through  the  gardens,  thick 
with  pomegranates,  oranges,  and  citrons,  into  the  town 
itseK,  where  for  a  day  or  two  we  exchanged  tent  life 
for  that  at  the  Grand  Hotel. 

Now  about  the  town.  This  is  the  most  picturesque 
of  Oriental  cities,  where  you  see  nothing  but  Orien- 
tals, no  Frank  hat  but  your  own  ;  where  Bedouins 
fresh  from  the  desert  crowd  you  in  the  streets ; 
where  you  sit  in  the  court-yard  of  your  hotel,  hear 
the  fountain  splashing  in  the  centre,  and  see  the 
orange-trees  around  it:   where  the  promenade  is  on 


44  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

the  house-top,  and  the  narrow  streets  are  full  of  dogs, 
donkeys,  and  camels.  It  is  a  delightful  town  ;  and 
then  its  history !  Here  is  the  street  called  "  Straight," 
where  Judas  lived,  keeping  its  old  name  (see  Acts 
ix).  They  show  you  the  house  of  Judas,  where  Paul 
lodged,  and  the  house  of  Ananias.  On  the  wall  you 
see  the  place  where  Paul  was  let  down  in  the  basket, 
and  even  the  place  of  his  conversion  is  kept  by  a 
tradition  ;  nay,  more,  the  old  house  of  Naaman  the 
Syrian  is  shown,  with  a  hospital  for  lepers  close  by  it. 
The  poor  creatures  came  and  begged  alms  of  us  as  we 
were  looking.  And  the  old  mosque  which  was  once 
a  Christian  church  is  said  to  have  been,  further  back, 
the  "  House  of  Rimmon  "  of  the  old  Testament.  At 
any  rate  here  is  the  old  town,  and  all  these  things 
were  here,  and  the  life  in  this  old  stagnant  East  is 
just  about  the  same  to-day  that  it  was  then. 

This  morning  I  went  to  the  Greek  church  and  saw 
a  miserable  mummery.  This  was  my  only  church- 
going.  There  are  not  enough  English  here  to  keep 
up  an  English  service.  The  English  consul,  Mr. 
Rogers,  called  on  us  last  night,  and  says  he  is  almost 
alone  here. 

You  will  wonder  why  I  have  written  you  all  this. 
The  truth  is,  I  have  written  partly  for  myself.  I  don't 
dare  to  hope  that  it  will  all  interest  you,  but  I  want 
to  keep  a  pretty  full  account  of  this  Syrian  trip,  and 
so  put  it  down  day  by  day.  Please  keep  my  letters. 
To-morrow  we  leave  for  Csesarea  and  Tyre.  You  will 
see  our  route  is  somewhat  changed  since  I  wrote  to 
mother.  I  hope  to  get  letters  from  you  all  at  Jeru- 
salem at  Christmas.  I  am  perfectly  well,  with  good 
spirits  and  lots  of  appetite,  but  sometimes  I  think 
how  good  it  will  be  to  get  home  again  and  think  this 


SYRIA.  45 

over.  I  wonder  how  you  all  do,  and  I  pray  you  are 
well.  Good-by;  I  don't  know  when  you  will  get 
this,  probably  not  till  after  New  Year's,  when  I  shall 
be  in  Egypt  or  in  Greece.  I  am  thirty  years  old 
next  week.     God  bless  and  keep  you  all. 

Phillips. 

In  Tent  at  Rascheya,  Syria, 
Tuesday,  December  5,  1865. 

Dear  William,  —  I  wrote  to  father  from  Damas- 
cus on  Sunday,  and  I  will  continue  my  plan  of  a  jour- 
nal while  I  am  in  Syria.  I  want  you  to  keep  the 
letters,  for  they  will  be  all  that  I  shall  have  to  recall 
the  details  of  my  route.  Let 's  see,  then.  Monday 
morning,  early,  we  went  out  with  the  janizary  of  the 
British  consul,  who  was  kindly  loaned  for  the  occasion, 
and  went  over  the  great  mosque.  Except  for  its  his- 
tory, there  is  not  much  of  interest  about  it,  but  it  is 
curious  here,  as  in  St.  Sophia  and  elsewhere,  to  see 
how  in  changing  a  Christian  church  to  Moslem  pur- 
poses they  have  left  ever  so  many  Christian  emblems 
uneffaced  ;  the  communion  cup  is  still  upon  the  bronze 
doors,  and  the  outside  has  a  walled  up  doorway  with 
the  inscription,  "  Thy  Kingdom,  O  Christ,  is  an  ever- 
lasting Kingdom,  and  thy  Dominion  endureth  from 
generation  to  generation."  After  the  mosque,  we 
roamed  about  the  bazaars,  especially  a  dim  little  pic- 
turesque hole  where  the  silversmiths  of  Damascus  do 
their  beautiful  work. 

At  two  o'clock  we  were  on  horseback  again,  and  rid- 
ing out  on  the  French  road,  through  the  gardens  that 
girdle  the  city,  along  the  sparkling  Abana.  We  said 
good-by  to  Damascus,  and  encamped  for  the  night  at 
Dinas,  a  little  village  about  twelve  miles  off  in  the 


46  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Anti-Lebanon  mountains.  The  night  was  very  cold, 
and  early  this  morning  we  were  off,  and  have  ridden 
eight  hours  to-day,  still  over  the  Anti-Lebanon.  We 
passed  an  old  castle  and  temple  in  ruins  about  noon, 
perhaps  one  of  the  old  Baal  temples  which  abounded 
in  this  region  of  Hermon.  Then  we  stopped  and 
lunched  under  a  little  group  of  trees  by  the  wayside, 
and  at  last,  after  a  hard  day's  ride,  came  to  our  camp- 
groimd.  It  is  a  larger  village  than  usual,  but  very 
forlorn.  There  is  an  old  castle  on  the  hill,  to  which 
we  wandered  before  dinner  and  saw  its  Turkish  gar- 
rison. This  was  one  of  the  towns  where  the  massacre 
of  the  Christians  by  the  Druses  was  most  terrible  in 
1860,  and  much  of  it  is  still  in  ruins.  But  the  most 
interesting  thing  of  all  is  Mt.  Hermon.  There  it  lies 
to-night  above  the  town,  with  its  broad  top  covered 
with  snow,  —  a  splendid  old  hiU,  the  northern  limit  of 
Palestine.  We  have  had  it  in  sight  from  time  to  time 
for  a  week,  and  here  we  are  close  to  its  feet,  and,  sit- 
ting among  our  Syrians  roimd  our  fire,  we  fancy  we 
can  see  the  old  Israelites  doing  "  their  idolatry  on  this 
one  of  the  high  places,"  where  the  old  altar  still 
stands.  Here,  just  now,  came  the  commander  of  cav- 
alry from  the  pasha  of  the  town,  to  offer  the  Franks 
his  prof  oimd  regards  and  any  help  they  wanted.  You 
should  have  heard  the  palaver  that  went  on  between 
us  with  our  good  Ibrahim  for  interpreter. 

Camp  at  C^sarba  Phiuppi, 
Thursday  Evening,  December  7. 

Here  we  are,  encamped  in  a  grove  of  old  olive- 
trees  close  to  Banyas,  which  is  on  the  site  of  the  old 
Caesarea  Philippi  on  one  of  the  southern  spurs  of  Mt. 
Hermon,  and  close  to  the  source  of  the  Jordan.     Yes- 


C^SAREA   PHILIPPI.  47 

terday  morning  we  broke  up  camp  at  Rascheya,  and 
started  across  the  Anti-Lebanon  mountains  to  visit  the 
great  gorge  and  natural  bridge  of  the  Litany.  It  was 
a  terrible  day's  ride.  We  were  in  the  saddle  ten 
hours,  over  the  most  abominable  road.  We  reached 
the  gorge  about  three  o'clock,  and  were  well  repaid. 
The  river  is  very  fine,  and  the  great  chasm  through 
which  it  breaks  its  way  is  bold  and  picturesque.  We 
then  went  to  Hasbeya,  whither  our  mules  had  pre- 
ceded us  by  a  shorter  route,  and  where  we  arrived 
after  dark.  This  morning  we  rode  from  there  over 
rough  hills,  till  at  last  we  came  out  into  the  Jordan 
valley,  and  saw  far  off  before  us  the  waters  of  Lake 
Merom,  through  which  the  Jordan  flows.  It  was  a 
pleasant  ride  then  around  the  spur  of  Mt.  Hermon, 
which  we  are  getting  to  know  like  an  old  friend,  over 
fields  full  of  the  crocus,  or,  as  our  dragoman  called 
it,  "  the  lily  of  the  field,"  which  was  very  beautiful, 
and  neither  sowing  nor  spinning,  tiU  we  came  in  sight 
of  the  great  castle  on  the  hiU  and  soon  rode  into  this 
little  village. 

Here  we  lunched,  drinking  the  Jordan  water,  and 
then  spent^the  afternoon  in  wandering  about  where 
the  sacred  river  bursts  out  of  a  deep  cave  on  which 
was  built  first  the  Temple  of  Baal,  then  of  the  Greek 
god  Pan,  then  of  the  Roman  Caesar,  and  now  there 
stands  there  a  little  white  Mohammedan  mosque. 
The  whole  scene  is  very  beautiful.  The  Jordan  runs 
in  many  streams  among  the  ruins,  and  is  overgrown 
with  laurels  and  olives.  The  present  village  is  mis- 
erably mean.  Its  inhabitants  are  Mohammedans,  and 
in  the  mountains  around  are  the  wild  Bedouins.  This 
is  the  first  night  we  have  kept  watch.  This,  you  know, 
is  the  place  where  Christ  had  the  conversation  with 


48  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

St.  Peter,  and  many  put  the  Transfiguration  on  some 
one  of  the  spurs  of  Hermon  which  surround  us.  This 
is  the  first  spot  that  we  have  touched  where  Christ 
himself  has  been,  and  it  is  full  of  interest.  Our 
weather  is  still  perfect,  and  to-night  soft  and  warm, 
with  gorgeous  starlight.  An  English  gentleman  and 
his  sister,  going  from  Jerusalem  to  Damascus,  are 
encamped  close  to  us. 

Tybe,  Sunday  Afternoon, 
December  10,  1865. 

Please  get  your  Bible  and  read  Ezekiel's  Prophecy, 
and  then  imagine  me  set  down  among  the  ruins  of 
this  old  Queen  of  the  Seas.  Friday  morning  we  left 
Banyas  and  rode  across  the  plain  of  Huleh  or  Merom. 
Here  we  stopped  and  saw  another  of  the  fountains  of 
the  Jordan  at  Laish  or  Dan.  You  will  find  all  about 
it  in  Judges  xviii.  It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  a  little  hill 
with  springs  bursting  out  all  around  its  roots,  and 
running  in  many  channels  down  the  fertile  plain 
towards  Lake  Merom.  Now  we  have  reached  the 
northern  border,  and  may  look  over  into  Palestine 
from  Dan  towards  Beersheba.  Out  of  the  plain  we 
struck  again  into  the  mountains,  and  lunched  by  a 
picturesque  little  bridge  over  the  Litany,  under  the 
shadow  of  a  splendid  great  Phoenician  castle,  famous 
in  Crusaders'  history,  which  overlooks  all  the  country 
from  a  lofty  hill.  We  spent  that  night  at  the  village 
of  Nabatiya.  It  was  our  first  rainy  night,  and  what 
with  the  tent  pins  giving  way  and  the  Syrian  floods 
pouring  down  through  the  thin  places  of  our  tent 
roof  and  the  high  wind  making  the  sides  rattle  terri- 
bly, we  had  an  exciting  night  of  it.  Next  morning 
we  were  off  in  the  rain,  striking  right  for  the  coast. 
About  noon  we  saw  the  sea,  and  lunched  on  a  hill  that 


TYRE.  49 

overlooks  it,  near  the  little  village  of  Toosa.  Then 
it  cleared  up,  and  our  afternoon's  ride  was  glorious. 
We  wound  down  the  hill,  crossed  our  old  friend  the 
Litany  near  its  mouth,  and  so  saw  the  last  of  it,  and 
then  kept  down  the  shore  with  Tyre  right  before  us, 
reaching  it  in  about  three  hours.  It  used  to  be  an 
island,  but  Alexander  built  a  causeway  out  to  it,  and 
the  water  has  heaped  up  the  sand  on  both  sides  of  the 
isthmus  till  it  is  a  broad-necked  peninsula.  It  is  the 
most  ruined  of  ruins.  An  old  church,  once  splendid, 
in  which  Origen  and  Frederick  Barbarossa  were 
buried,  is  the  only  building  they  ever  pretend  to 
show  and  that  you  can  hardly  make  out  at  all.  Every- 
thing else  is  gone. 

The  seashore  is  lined  with  piles  of  splendid  marble 
and  granite  columns,  worn  out  of  shape  by  the  waters 
and  half  sunk  in  the  sand.  The  place  where  Hiram 
lived  in  magTiificence  may  have  been  this  poor  little 
house  which  we  have  hired  to  spend  Sunday  in.  It 
has  one  big  room  through  which  the  family  of  queer- 
looking  people  whom  we  have  dispossessed  circulate 
continually,  and  where  we  three  sleep  and  eat  while 
our  cookery  goes  on  in  the  yard  outside.  The  whole 
island  is  only  about  three  quarters  by  one  half  mile, 
and  half  of  this  now  is  utterly  covered  with  rubbish. 
But  the  view  is  splendid  to-day.  On  one  side  we  look 
out  upon  the  noble  Mediterranean,  and  feel  (at  least 
I  do)  as  if  the  stretch  of  waters  established  some  sort 
of  communication  with  home.  On  the  other  side 
stretches  the  long  coast,  with  the  hills  of  Lebanon 
skirting  it,  and  old  Hermon  with  his  snowy  top,  the 
watch-tower  of  all  this  country,  glistening  in  the  sun 
beyond.  Just  round  that  point  up  the  coast  lies 
Sidon,  the  mother -city   of  this  Tyre,  and  the  little 


50  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

white  mosque  on  the  hill  this  side  of  it  marks  the 
place  of  Sarepta,  the  town  where  Elijah  met  the 
widow. 

All  our  yesterday's  ride  was  through  the  coasts  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  and  any  spot  our  horses  passed  may 
have  been  the  scene  of  Christ's  meeting  with  the  Syro- 
phoenician  woman.  "  What  city  is  like  to  Tyrus,  to  the 
destroyed  in  the  midst  of  the  sea."  Being  the  only 
Franks  in  town,  we  make  some  little  sensation.  All 
day  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  has  been  seen  flying  in 
our  honor  on  the  house  of  an  old  gentleman  who  acts 
here  as  our  consular  agent  for  the  transaction  of  no- 
body knows  what  business,  and  this  afternoon  he  sent 
us  word  that  he  would  be  glad  to  have  us  visit  him. 
We  went,  of  course,  taking  Ibrahim  for  interpreter, 
and  were  soon  squatted  on  a  divan  around  a  room 
whose  only  other  furniture  was  the  rugs  on  the  floor. 
Narghilehs  and  coffee  were  brought,  and  then  we  made 
civil  speeches  to  each  other,  which  were  duly  translated, 
and  left  with  lots  of  salaams  and  wishes  for  eternal 
prosperity.  Then  our  quarters  have  been  besieged  all 
day  with  natives  small  and  large,  male  and  female, 
bringing  "  Antikers,"  as  they  caU  them,  rings,  coins, 
seals,  etc.,  dug  up  among  the  ruins,  for  us  to  buy  at  big 
prices.  Fortunately  Appleton  is  a  coin  collector,  and 
so  satisfies  them  for  the  party. 

These  last  two  weeks  have  been  like  a  curious  sort 
of  dream;  all  the  old  Bible  story  has  seemed  so 
strangely  about  us,  —  the  great  flocks  of  sheep  that 
we  meet  everywhere,  wandering  with  their  wild  shep- 
herds over  the  hills ;  the  lines  of  loaded  camels  that  go 
laboring  across  the  horizon ;  the  sowers  in  the  field 
scattering  their  seed,  half  on  the  stony  ground  (it  is 
almost  paved  with  stones),  and  half  among  the  great 


HAIFA,  51 

thorn  bushes  that  grow  up  every-where  ;  the  little 
villages,  liaK  a  dozen  every  day,  with  the  people  on 
the  house-tops  ;  the  wild  men  of  the  desert,  who  come 
suddenly  in  your  way  among  the  hills  ;  and  the  fam- 
ilies with  mules  and  asses,  women  and  children,  who 
seem  to  have  no  purpose  in  their  traveling  but  just  to 
fiU  up  your  picture  for  you.  Far  off  to  the  east, 
from  time  to  time  the  high  hills,  the  hills  of  Bashan. 
(Think  of  being  in  the  dominions  of  that  old  Og 
whom  we  have  always  read  of  in  the  Psalter.)  Olive- 
trees,  palms,  fig-trees  and  pomegranates,  all  this,  and 
Lebanon,  Damascus,  Hermon,  Jordan,  Cassarea,  and 
Tyre  ;  it  certainly  makes  a  strange  two  weeks.  The 
next  two  will  be  fuller  still  from  here  to  Jerusalem. 
You  shall  hear  of  it.  .  .  . 

I  shall  send  this  from  Acre.  I  hope  you  will  get 
these  Eastern  letters.  Good-by  now.  God  bless  you 
alL 

Phill. 

Haifa,  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Carmel, 
Monday  Evening,  December  12,  1865. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  sent  a  letter  to  William  from 
Tyre,  which  I  hope  he  received.  I  wiU  carry  on  my 
story  from  there.  We  left  Tyre  early  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  as  we  rode  out  saw  the  fishermen  spreading 
their  nets  on  the  rocks,  as  the  old  Prophecy  of  Eze- 
kiel,  you  know,  foretells.  It  was  a  lovely  morning,  and 
the  seashore  was  sparkling  in  the  early  light  as  we 
came  across  on  to  the  mainland  and  struck  down  the 
coast.  We  passed,  yesterday,  a  group  of  fine  old 
fountains  and  pieces  of  moss-grown  aqueducts,  where 
the  city  of  old  Tyre  stood,  and  a  beautiful  little 
spring  on  a  hiU  where  was  once  a  town  called  Alexan- 


52  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

dros  Kyne,  or  Alexander's  Tent.  It  is  said  the  great 
conqueror  lodged  there  on  his  way  to  besiege  Tyre. 
In  the  afternoon  we  climbed  over  a  great  white  cliff 
which  runs  out  into  the  sea  and  is  called  the  Tyrian 
Ladder.  It  is  the  southern  limit  of  Phoenicia,  and 
below  it  Palestine  begins.  Soon  after,  we  came  to 
our  camping-place  at  the  little  village  of  Eszib,  whose 
old  name  was  Achzib,  which  you  will  find  in  Judges  i. 
31,  and  was  one  of  the  towns  given  to  Asher,  but 
never  captured  by  them.  We  camped  close  by  the 
weU,  and  aU  the  evening  women  were  coming  for  the 
water,  which  an  old  man,  sitting  on  top  of  the  well, 
drew  for  them ;  the  scene  was  very  picturesque,  but 
the  town,  except  for  one  or  two  splendid  palm-trees 
and  a  noble  sea  coast,  is  forlorn. 

To-day  we  have  been  riding  down  the  coast.  The 
scene  is  all  changed.  We  are  in  the  plain  of  Acre,  a 
rich  coimtry,  the  very  sight  of  which  lets  you  under- 
stand how  Asher  "  dipped  his  foot  in  oil "  and  "  his 
bread  was  fat,  and  he  yielded  royal  dainties."  AU 
along  the  coast  are  the  creeks  and  bays  where  he  lin- 
gered when  Deborah  reproached  him  with  "  abiding 
in  his  breaches."  We  rode  past  golden  orange  or- 
chards, and  ate  the  fruit  fresh  from  the  tree.  About 
noon  we  came  to  Acre,  an  old  city  formerly  called 
Ptolemais,  whose  principal  history  belongs  to  the  Cru- 
sades and  to  Napoleon's  time.  We  went  through  it ; 
saw  the  fortifications  and  the  ruins  of  an  old  church, 
but  there  was  not  much  to  look  at.  After  it,  came  a 
long  beach  of  twelve  miles,  stretching  from  Acre  to 
where  Mt.  Carmel  runs  out  its  grand  promontory  into 
the  sea.  We  crossed  this  rapidly,  and  just  before  we 
reached  Carmel  came  to  the  mouth  of  a  swift  river, 
where  we  sat  down  under  a  palm-tree  and  lunched. 


HAIFA.  63 

It  was  "that  ancient  river,  the  river  Kishon."  It 
comes  up  from  the  plain  of  Esdraelon  and  passing 
through  the  Carmel  Mount  runs  into  the  sea  near  this 
town  of  Haifa,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
in  which  our  tent  is  now  pitched.  The  old  stream 
looks  strong  enough  to  sweep  away  another  Sisera, 
but  Carmel  is  what  we  came  here  for.  There  it  is 
with  all  its  "  excellency,"  a  long  ridge  running  far  out 
into  the  sea  and  back  into  the  rich  country,  with 
Sharon  on  its  south  and  the  plain  of  Acre  on  its  north. 
There  is  the  place  where  Elijah  and  the  priests  of 
Baal  had  their  trial,  and  there  is  the  ridge  where  his 
servant  went  up  and  looked  seven  times  till  he  saw 
the  little  cloud  rising  out  of  that  bright  Mediterranean, 
which  has  not  had  a  cloud  on  it  to-day.  All  is  clear 
as  if  we  saw  the  prophet's  altar  burning.  This  after- 
noon we  climbed  the  cliff  to  where  the  convent  stands 
overlooking  the  sea.  The  Carmelite  brothers  received 
us  hospitably.  They  are  jolly,  comfortable-looking 
fellows,  with  brown  coarse  coats  and  cowls.  In  their 
church  they  take  you  down  under  the  high  altar  and 
show  you  the  cave  where  Elijah  hid  from  Jezebel.  It 
is  fitted  up  in  their  tawdry  style  with  a  small  chapel. 
Halfway  down  the  hiU  is  another,  larger  cave,  called 
the  Cave  of  the  Sons  of  the  Prophets,  where  it  is  said 
Elijah  received  the  chiefs  of  the  people.  This  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  Mohammedans  and  is  fitted  up  for 
their  worship,  so  curiously  are  things  mixed  up  here. 
But  the  mountain  itself,  and  its  glorious  view,  is  just 
what  it  was  in  Elijah's  time,  wooded  to  the  top,  look- 
ing out  on  beauty  and  richness  everywhere.  West- 
ward, over  the  blue  sea,  north  along  the  splendid  bay 
of  Acre,  over  the  great  fertile  plain  to  the  Lebanon 
hiUs  in  the  distance,  with  Hermon's  white  head  look- 


64  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

ing  over  them,  east  into  Galilee  to  the  hills  of  Kedesh. 
Naphtali  and  the  fertile  plain  of  Esdraelon,  and  south 
along  the  beautiful  coast  over  the  smooth  pasture-land 
of  Sharon,  what  a  place  for  a  prophet,  and  what  a 
scene  for  the  great  trial  of  his  faith !  Below,  the 
Kishon  runs  through  the  plain  as  if  it  were  stiU  tell- 
ing to-night  of  how  he  took  the  prophets  of  Baal  and 
slew  them  there.  We  sleep  imder  the  shadow  of  Car- 
mel.  I  am  very  tired,  and  all  is  still,  except  the  jack- 
als screaming  in  the  distance.  Good-night.  I  wish  I 
were  going  to  bed  in  that  back  room  at  home. 

Nazaketh,  Wednesday  Evening, 
December  13,  1865. 

We  are  encamped  on  this  my  thirtieth  birthday  in 
a  group  of  olive-trees  just  by  the  fountain  of  Naza^ 
reth.  We  left  Haifa  early  this  morning  and  rode 
along  the  base  of  Carmel  for  several  hours,  then 
struck  across  the  plain,  crossing  the  Kishon  by  a  deep 
and  rapid  ford.  Soon  after  we  came  to  the  first  of 
the  Galilee  hills,  and  climbing  it  saw  Mt.  Tabor, 
the  great  moimtain  of  Galilee,  before  us,  and  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon  stretched  out  between  it  and 
Carmel.  It  was  just  the  landscape  which  I  have 
always  expected  in  Palestine,  —  low,  round,  wooded 
hills,  and  rich  plains  between.  Tabor  is  the  finest, 
most  beautifully  shaped  of  the  sacred  hills,  a  soft 
smooth  cone  with  wooded  sides  and  top.  We  rode 
on  all  the  afternoon  through  hills  and  glens,  till 
about  four  o'clock,  when  we  came  suddenly  to  the  top 
of  a  steep  hill,  and  there  lay  Nazareth  below  us.  It 
was  a  strange  feeling  to  ride  down  through  it  and 
look  in  the  people's  faces  and  think  how  Christ  must 
have  been  about  these  streets  just  like  these  children, 


NAZARETH.  55 

and  the  Virgin  like  these  women,  and  to  look  into 
the  carpenters'  shops  and  see  the  Nazarenes  at  their 
work.  The  town  lies  in  a  sort  of  gorge,  halfway 
up  the  side  of  a  pretty  steep  hill.  As  soon  as  our 
horses  were  left  at  the  camp,  we  climbed  the  "  hill  on 
which  the  city  was  built,"  and  saw  what  is  perhaps  the 
finest  view  in  Palestine.  I  thought  all  the  time  I 
was  looking  at  it  how  often  Jesus  must  have  climbed 
up  here  and  enjoyed  it.  There  were  the  Lebanon  hills 
and  Hermon  to  the  north,  Tabor  to  the  east,  and  a 
line  of  low  mountains,  behind  which  lie  unseen  the 
Sea  of  Tiberias  and  the  Jordan ;  beyond  them,  the 
hills  of  Moab  stretching  towards  the  south.  On  the 
southern  side  the  noble  plain  of  Esdraelon,  the  battle- 
field of  Jewish  history,  with  Mt.  Gilboa  stretching 
into  it,  where  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  killed.  Jez- 
reel  lies  like  a  little  white  speck  on  the  side  of  Gilboa, 
and  Little  Hermon  rises  up  between.  On  the  west, 
the  plain  is  closed  by  the  long,  dark  line  of  Carmel, 
stretching  into  the  sea,  and  the  sight  that  His  eyes 
saw  farthest  off  was  that  line  of  the  Mediterranean 
over  which  His  power  was  to  spread  to  the  ends  of 
the  world.  It  is  a  most  noble  view.  The  hill  is 
crowned  with  ruins  of  the  tomb  of  some  old  Moslem 
saint.  It  is  the  same  hill  up  which  they  took  Jesus, 
to  cast  Him  down  from  the  cliff.  The  scene  was 
very  impressive  in  the  evening  light. 

When  we  came  down  we  went  to  the  village  foun- 
tain, where  the  women  of  the  town  were  drawing 
water.  Such  a  clatter  and  crowd !  Some  of  them 
were  quite  pretty,  and  the  sight  was  very  Oriental,  as 
they  walked  off  with  their  water-pots  upon  their 
heads.  The  Greeks,  b}^  their  tradition,  put  the  An- 
nunciation at  this  fountain  ;  the  Latins  have  a  grotto 


56  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

for  it,  which  they  say  was  Mary's  house.  This  is  a 
good  place  to  keep  a  birthday,  is  n't  it  ?  Our  tent 
fire  is  burning  bright,  and  I  shall  sit  by  it  a  little 
while  and  then  to  bed. 


Tiberias,  Thursday  Evening, 
December  14,  1865. 

Our  tents  are  pitched  to-night  by  the  Sea  of  Galilee, 
in  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle  of  Tiberias.  We  spent 
this  forenoon  in  continuing  our  survey  of  Nazareth. 
First,  we  went  to  see  the  place  of  the  Annunciation. 
We  entered  the  church  of  the  Franciscan  monastery 
while  service  was  going  on.  After  it  was  over,  a 
monk  took  us  down  under  the  altar  into  a  cave,  fitted 
up  richly  for  a  chapel,  under  the  altar  of  which  is  a 
black  marble  cross,  to  mark  the  place  where  Mary 
stood.  Opposite  it  are  two  stone  pillars,  between 
which  the  angel  came.  One  of  them  is  broken 
through,  so  that  a  piece  hangs  from  the  ceiling,  and 
a  piece  stands  up  from  the  floor.  They  say  the  Mos- 
lems tried  to  break  the  cave  down,  and  could  n't. 
From  this  cave  a  stairway  leads  up  into  another,  a 
second  room  of  the  house.  Over  the  altar  of  the 
Annunciation  is  a  good  picture  of  the  scene,  and 
around  the  cross  are  ever-burning  silver  lamps.  It  is 
a  pretty  and  impressive  spot,  and  there  is  no  impos- 
sibility about  its  being  the  place. 

We  went  then  to  the  carpenter's  shop  of  Joseph, 
and  the  synagogue  where  Christ  preached.  Both  are 
modern  churches,  and  there  is  nothing  interesting 
about  either.  Then  to  the  church  where  the  Greeks 
celebrate  the  Annunciation.  They  place  it  at  a  foun- 
tain imder  a  tawdry  old  church,  and  take  you  down 
into  a  cave,  where  they  have  their  lamps  around  their 


TIBERIAS.  57 

cross,  and  a  well  from  which  a  monk  draws  up  water 
and  gives  you  to  drink  out  of  a  silver  cup.  The  old 
church  was  very  prettily  full  of  birds  flying  about. 
These  are  the  sights  of  Nazareth,  but  its  old  streets 
and  the  view  from  the  hill  are  its  true  interest,  and 
those  I  shall  never  forget.  We  said  good-by  to  it, 
and  left  it  lying  among  the  hills,  where  Jesus  must 
have  looked  back  upon  it  the  last  time  He  went 
out. 

A  quick  ride  of  five  hours  brought  us  here.  We 
lunched  at  Cana  of  Galilee,  at  least  at  a  little  village 
which  one  legend  calls  so.  There  is  another  claimant 
to  the  name  which  we  saw  in  the  distance;  either 
may  be  the  place.  Both  are  so  situated  that  you 
can  picture  Jesus  and  His  mother  going  out  from 
Nazareth  to  a  near  town  to  attend  the  marriage  to 
which  they  had  been  invited.  Ours  was  a  forlorn  little 
town,  in  which  we  stopped  at  a  wretched  church, 
where  a  cross-legged  master  was  teaching  twenty 
cross-legged  boys  to  read  their  Arabic.  Against  the 
wall  were  built  in  what  looked  like  two  fonts,  about 
the  size  of  that  in  my  church.  This  is  said  to  be  the 
house  of  the  marriage.  Then  we  rode  on  through  a 
rolling  country  which  Jesus  must  have  often  walked, 
on  His  way  back  and  forth  between  Nazareth  and  the 
lake.  The  whole  country,  every  hill  and  valley, 
seemed  marked  with  His  foot-prints.  At  last  we 
came  to  a  broad  plain  with  one  round  hill  rising 
out  of  it.  Here  the  last  great  battle  of  the  Crusades 
was  fought,  and  Saladin  finally  conquered  the 
Christians.  Legend  calls  the  hill  "  The  Hill  of  the 
Beatitudes,"  and  says  it  is  where  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  was  preached.  Perhaps  it  is.  Opposite  is 
another  hill,  where  they  say  Christ  fed  the  multitude, 


68  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

but  that  must  have  been  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake.  Another  ridge  climbed,  and  there  was  the 
"  Sea  of  Galilee,  which  is  the  Sea  of  Tiberias." 
There  it  lay  in  the  soft  afternoon  light,  blue  among 
the  purple  hills.  There  were  the  waves  He  walked, 
the  shores  where  He  taught,  the  mountains  where  He 
prayed.  With  Hermon's  white  head  to  the  north, 
with  the  steep  Moab  hills  coming  to  its  brink  on  the 
east,  with  its  low  western  shore  where  the  old  city 
stood,  with  Safed  "  the  city  set  on  a  hill  "off  to  the 
northwest,  it  was  a  sight  not  to  be  forgotten.  I 
have  hardly  ever  enjoyed  an  hour  more  than  the  one 
we  spent  in  winding  down  the  ridge  into  Tiberias. 
The  town  lies  on  the  lake  shore ;  it  is  miserable  and 
dirty.  It  has  a  population  of  wretched  Jews,  who  are 
rascally-looking  creatures  in  black  felt  hats,  and  long 
elf  locks.  The  women  are  horribly  tattooed  with  ink. 
"  Every  prospect  pleases,  and  only  man  is  vile."  So 
ends  a  most  interesting  day.  By  the  way,  looking 
into  a  house-door  at  Nazareth,  this  morning,  I  saw 
"  two  women  grinding  together  at  the  mill "  sitting 
together  on  the  floor,  and  working  the  upper  mill- 
stone round  upon  the  lower  by  a  handle,  which  they 
both  grasped. 

Our  weather  is  still  splendid,  and  to-night  is  soft 
and  warm  as  June.     Good-night. 

Tiberias,  Friday,  December  15,  1865. 

To-day  has  been  a  perfect  day,  cloudless  and  warm, 
and  we  have  spent  it  in  seeing  this  wonderful  lake. 
We  were  ready  early,  and  our  horses  were  brought  out 
because  there  was  a  fresh  wind  blowing  and  the  timid 
fishermen  would  not  venture  the  one  boat,  which  is 
now  the  only  craft  of  the  lake,  upon  the  water.     So 


TIBERIAS.  59 

we  must  ride.  We  left  the  old  walls  of  Tiberias  be- 
hind us,  and  rode  northward  along  the  western  shore. 
Tiberias  itself  is  a  miserable  town,  but  its  walls 
show  that  it  was  once  fine,  and  it  was  new  and  at  its 
best  in  Jesus'  day.  After  crossing  one  or  two  ridges, 
with  their  intervening  valleys,  we  came  out  on  a 
plain  three  miles  long  and  extending  back  a  mile  or 
two,  flat  and  fertile,  from  the  beach.  This  is  the 
"  land  of  Gennesaret."  Just  as  we  entered  it  from 
the  hills,  we  came  to  a  little  group  of  twenty  or  thirty 
dirty  huts  with  a  ruined  tower  near  them.  This  is 
Magdala,  the  native  town  of  Mary  Magdalene.  The 
Arabs  still  call  it  Medjel.  We  rode  across  the  plain, 
through  the  oleander  bushes  that  skirt  the  shore,  and 
at  its  other  end  came  to  an  old  ruined  khan,  a  foun- 
tain gusliing  out  under  an  old  fig-tree,  and  an  acre 
or  more  covered  with  old  foundations  and  heaps  of 
stones.  Right  in  the  midst  was  a  wretched  burial 
ground,  and  three  poor  Bedouins  were  digging,  as  we 
passed,  a  grave  for  a  body  that  lay  wrapped  in  its 
blankets  on  the  ground  beside  them.  This  is  Caper- 
naum, the  home  of  Christ  after  Nazareth  rejected 
Him.  "  And  thou  Capernaum."  Passing  this,  we 
climbed  a  cliff,  and,  keeping  a  narrow  road  cut  in  the 
rock,  came  by  and  by  to  another  beach,  and  beyond 
it  to  a  snug  little  cove,  just  the  place  for  fishing-boats 
to  be  drawn  up,  with  nothing  on  the  shore  but  some 
old  ruined  aqueducts,  and  some  reservoirs,  one  of 
them  now  used  for  a  mill.  Not  a  living  soul  was 
there.  This  is  Bethsaida,  the  city  of  John  and 
James,  Peter  and  Andrew.  We  kept  along  then  a 
mile  or  so  farther,  and  came  to  another  heap  of  ruins 
interspersed  with  miserable  huts,  and  the  black  tents 
of  Bedouins,  who  are  in  temporary  occupation.     This 


60  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

is  Chorazin.  There  are  ruins  of  some  fine  build- 
ings here,  columns,  capitals,  etc.,  but  this  is  probably 
later  than  Jesus'  time.  Here  we  limched,  sitting  in 
the  shadow  of  one  of  the  huts,  with  the  Bedouins  gath- 
ered on  its  roof,  staring  at  us.  They  seemed  harm- 
less, but  would  be  bad  enough  if  they  had  the  chance. 
There  were  some  good  faces  among  them.  I  noticed 
especially  one  sweet  -  looking  little  girl,  whom  it 
seemed  hard  to  leave  in  such  keeping.  These  are  the 
cities  "  wherein  many  of  His  mighty  works  were 
done,"  —  all  ruined  and  gone.  We  turned  back 
here  ;  our  dragoman  would  not  let  us  go  farther,  for 
fear  of  Bedouins.  We  saw  in  the  distance  where 
the  Jordan  enters  into  the  lake,  and  then  riding  back 
to  Tiberias,  made  the  fisherman  take  us  out  to  row 
on  the  lake.  It  was  strange  to  see  him,  as  we  reached 
the  middle,  and  the  hour  of  prayer  arrived,  leave 
his  rudder,  and  spreading  his  cloak  on  the  floor  of  the 
boat,  kneel  towards  Mecca  and  with  many  gestures 
say  his  evening  prayers.  All  this  on  the  lake  of 
Gennesaret.  But  religions  are  all  mixed  up  here. 
We  had  the  Tiberias  fish  for  breakfast  this  morning, 
but  they  were  so  bad  we  could  only  taste  them.  To- 
morrow we  leave  the  lake,  but  I  shall  never  forget 
how  it  has  looked  to-day. 

Nazareth,  Saturday  Evening", 
December  16,  1865. 

We  have  returned  here  to  spend  Sunday.  Our 
road  from  Tiberias  was  different  from  the  one  we 
took  in  going  there,  and  was  arranged  to  take  in  Mt. 
Tabor.  It  has  been  a  hard  day's  ride,  nine  hours  and 
a  half  on  the  way.  The  only  point  of  interest  was 
Tabor.      After  keeping  it  in  sight  aU  the  forenoon, 


NAZARETH.  61 

we  reached  its  foot  about  twelve  o'clock,  and  climbed 
it  slowly.  The  ascent  is  not  long,  and  there  is  a  sort 
of  road,  but  very  rough.  You  wind  up  through  oak- 
trees,  scattered  among  the  rocks,  and  about  an  hour 
brings  you  out  on  the  top,  where  there  are  the  ruins 
of  an  old  town,  and  a  convent  of  Greek  monks.  The 
view  is  noble,  though  not  equal  to  the  Nazareth  hill. 
The  beautiful  plain  of  Esdraelon  stretches  to  the  west, 
with  Carmel  closing  it  in.  On  the  south  lies  Little 
Hermon,  "  the  Little  Hill  of  Hermon,"  with  Endor 
and  Nain  upon  its  sides,  and  the  mountains  of  Gilboa 
showing  their  heads  beyond.  To  the  west  you  can 
just  see  a  bit  of  the  lake,  and  trace  the  valley  where 
it  lies  and  where  the  Jordan  runs,  with  the  table-land 
of  Bashan  stretching  out  beyond,  and  the  blue  hills  of 
Gilead  farther  off  still.  To  the  northwest  there  is 
old  Hermon,  still  with  his  snow,  so  that  we  have  the 
two  great  mountains  associated.  "  Tabor  and  Her- 
mon shall  rejoice  in  Thy  name."  You  know  that 
Tabor  has  been  held  to  be  the  mountain  of  Transfigu- 
ration. There  is  no  authority  for  it  but  tradition, 
and  I  for  one  am  well  convinced  that  some  one  of  the 
ridges  of  Hermon  is  far  more  likely  to  be  the  place. 
But  Tabor  is  very  beautiful,  and  has  been  always  one 
of  the  sacred  places.  We  met  on  the  top  a  poor 
Abyssinian  priest,  who  had  come  all  the  way  hither 
on  a  pilgrimage,  and  now  clings  about  here,  living  on 
charity.  He  kissed  my  hands  and  called  down  unintel- 
ligible blessings  when  I  gave  him  five  piastres.  A 
hard  afternoon's  ride  brought  us  to  our  old  camping- 
ground,  surrounded  by  hedges  of  cactus,  among  the 
gnarled  old  olive-trees  beside  the  fountain  of  Naza- 
reth. 

Here  we  shall  rest  ourselves  and  our  horses  for  a 


62  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

day  in  this  old  town,  which  with  the  sea  of  Galilee  has 
more  attraction  for  me  than  anything  else  that  I  have 
seen.     Next  week  to  Jerusalem. 

I  put  you  in  two  "  lilies  of  the  field  "  from  Mt. 
Carmel,  and  two  purple  oleander  blossoms  from  the 
"  land  of  Gennesaret,"  between  Magdala  and  Caper- 
naum. 

Sunday  Evening,  December  17,  1865. 

I  have  had  a  very  pleasant,  quiet  Sunday  here  at 
Nazareth.  This  morning  I  went  to  the  Greek  church 
and  heard  their  usual  boisterous  and  disagreeable 
service.  The  forenoon  we  spent  in  reading  and  rest- 
ing. It  was  warm  as  summer,  the  tent  curtains  wide 
open,  the  babble  at  the  fountain  all  day.  This  after- 
noon to  the  Latin  church,  where  a  very  impressive 
mass  was  performed  before  the  altar  of  the  Annunci- 
ation. The  chanting  with  an  organ  (the  first  I  have 
heard  since  Vienna)  and  boys'  voices  was  very  fine. 
A  strange  group  of  Bedouins,  women,  children,  and 
all  odd  costumes,  kneeling  on  the  altar  stairs.  After 
service  Appleton  and  I  took  a  walk  into  the  country, 
and  saw  what  we  have  seen  all  along,  the  shepherds 
leading  (not  driving)  their  flocks  and  carrying  the 
weak  ones  in  their  arms.  All  day  the  people  have 
gathered  round  to  look  at  us.  It  is  touching  to  hear 
the  poor  people  tell  of  how  they  suffered  from  the 
locusts  in  the  spring.  They  bame  in  clouds,  covering 
the  ground  half  a  foot  deep,  as  large  as  sparrows ;  all 
the  shops  and  houses  were  closed  for  days.  Every 
green  thing  was  eaten  up.  It  sounded  like  a  chapter 
out  of  Joel.  It  is  sad,  too,  to  hear  them  talk  of  their 
government.  All  spirit  is  gone  out  of  them,  and  they 
only  wait  the  inevitable  dropping  to  pieces  of  the  rotten 


JENIN.  68 

thing,  which  all  expect.    The  English  missionary  here 
called  to  see  us  this  afternoon. 


Jenin,  Monday  Evening, 
December  18,  1865. 

To-day  has  been  very  interesting.  We  were  off 
bright  and  early,  and  left  Nazareth  behind  us  among  • 
its  hills.  Crossing  a  very  bad,  rocky  rid^e,  we  came 
down  into  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon  and  crossed  its 
eastern  end,  between  Tabor  and  Little  Hermon,  where 
Deborah  and  Barak  gathered  their  troops  before  the 
battle  with  Sisera.  Keeping  part  way  up  Little  Her- 
mon, we  came  to  a  forlorn  village.  The  people  were 
a  little  dirtier  and  more  rascally  looking,  the  hovels 
a  little  viler,  than  any  yet.  We  rode  through  it  up  to 
a  large  cave  in  the  hillside,  some  twenty  feet  deep, 
with  a  spring  in  it  and  a  fig-tree  beside  it.  The 
village  is  Endor,  and  this  cave  is  shown  as  the  place 
where  the  witch  called  up  Samuel.  Certainly,  the 
town  looks  as  if  it  had  had  a  crop  of  witches  ever  since, 
and  were  growing  another  for  the  next  generation. 
We  left  it  with  the  whole  population  crying  out 
for  "  backsheesh  "  and  throwing  stones  at  us.  Keep- 
ing along  the  side  of  Little  Hermon,  in  about  an  hour 
we  came  to  Nain,  another  wretched  collection  of  some 
twenty  huts,  where  you  could  imagine  the  beautiful 
scene  of  the  miracle  at  the  gate.  Thence  around  the 
end  of  Little  Hermon  to  its  southern  slope,  where  we 
came  to  Shunem,  the  scene  of  the  pretty  story  of  the 
Shunammite  woman  and  Elisha.  The  village  is  a  lit- 
tle larger  than  usual,  with  more  bad  smells  and  dogs. 
Below  it,  in  the  plain,  lay  the  fields  where  the  boy 
went  with  his  father  to  see  the  reapers ;  and  far  off  is 
Carmel,  to  which  the  mother  rode  to  fetch  the  man 


64  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

of  God.  There  is  a  reality  about  these  things  here 
which  is  very  enjoyable.  An  hour's  ride,  now  across 
the  plain,  brought  us  to  the  fountain  of  Jezreel,  a 
spring  and  great  pool  of  water  at  the  foot  of  a  steep 
rock.  This,  you  know,  was  the  scene  of  two  great 
events :  first,  the  destruction  of  the  Midianites  by 
Gideon  (here  is  the  very  pool  of  which  his  soldiers 
drank  or  lapped),  and  the  defeat  of  Saul  by  the  Philis- 
tines. Here  is  where  his  army  lay.  The  Philistines 
were  opposite,  at  Shunem.  Over  that  ridge  of  Little 
Hermon  he  went  the  night  before  the  battle  to  con- 
sult the  witch.  Behind  us  rise  the  mountains  of  Gil- 
boa,  in  whose  high  places  he  was  killed,  and  down  the 
plain  towards  the  Jordan  you  see  the  ruins  of  old 
Beth-shan,  where  his  body  was  exposed.  We  limched 
by  the  foimtain,  and  then  rode  along  the  side  of  the 
Gilboa  range  to  its  western  slope,  where  is  Jezreel, 
the  palace  of  Ahab,  the  home  of  Jezebel,  the  place 
where  her  body  was  thrown  out  to  the  dogs.  The 
wretched  creatures  were  prowling  about  there  still,  as 
we  passed  through.  It  is  a  miserable  village  of  huts 
now,  but  you  look  across  the  plain  and  see  where, 
after  the  miracle  on  Carmel,  Elijah  ran  before  Ahab 
"  to  the  entrance  of  Jezreel." 

From  here  we  have  been  keeping  all  the  afternoon 
along  the  southern  slope  of  Gilboa  to  this  point.  The 
hills  of  Samaria  have  been  full  in  view.  Far  off 
across  the  plain,  by  Carmel,  are  dimly  seen  Taanach 
and  Megiddo,  the  towns  of  Deborah's  song.  The 
white  mosque  of  Jenin  came  in  sight  at  fi.Ye  o'clock, 
and  here  we  are  in  tent  again.  This  place  is  prettily 
situated,  but  has  nothing  remarkable.  It  is  the  old 
En-gannim  of  Joshua  xxi.  29.  The  day  has  been 
overcast,  but  no  rain ;  to-night  is  clear,  and  I  am  very 


NABLOUS.  65 

tired.  Four  months  to-day  since  I  landed  at  Queens- 
town.  I  have  not  forgotten  that  this  is  George's 
birthday. 

Nablous  (Shechem), 
Tuesday  Evening,  December  19. 

Another  very  interesting  day.  The  days  become 
more  interesting  as  we  approach  Jerusalem.  We  were 
to  go  from  Galilee  to  Judea,  "  and  must  needs  pass 
through  Samaria."  Shortly  after  we  left  Jenin,  crossing 
a  range  of  hills,  we  saw,  two  miles  on  our  left,  a  small 
"tell  "  or  hill  which  is  the  old  Dothan,  whence  Joseph 
went  to  seek  his  brethren,  and  where  they  sold 
him  to  the  Midianites.  We  rode  on  all  the  morning, 
over  hills  and  plains,  the  hills  occasionally  opening 
to  the  east,  and  letting  us  see  the  plain  of  Sharon 
and  the  blue  sea  beyond.  About  noon  we  saw  be- 
fore us  the  terraced  hill  of  Samaria,  and  lunched  by 
and  by  among  the  olives  on  its  northern  side.  It  is 
full  of  the  interest  of  Elisha,  and  the  old  Israelite 
kings,  and  the  visit  of  Philip  in  the  Acts.  I  read 
over  2  Kings  vi.  and  vii.  on  horseback.  The  place  is 
full  of  ruins  of  the  old  Roman  time,  when  it  was  re- 
built by  Herod  and  called  Sebaste.  Countless  col- 
umns are  scattered  around,  and  some  standing.  The 
prophecy  seems  strangely  fulfilled.  Some  are  roUed 
down  the  hills,  and  the  husbandmen  were  ploughing 
among  them,  all  over  the  old  site.  The  present  vil- 
lage is  miserable ;  we  rode  into  it  after  dinner,  and 
were  surrounded  by  the  population  like  fleas.  There 
is  an  old  church  of  St.  John  in  whose  ruins  is  now  a 
wretched  mosque.  A  long  quarrel  and  fifteen  piastres 
"  backsheesh "  gained  us  admission,  and  in  a  little 
subterranean  room,  whose  walls  were  covered  with 
defaced  crosses,  they  showed  us  what  they  called  the 


66  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

tomb  of  John  the  Baptist.  It  is  a  very  old  tradition. 
As  we  rode  out  of  town,  we  were  chased  by  the  chil- 
dren, with  much  dirt  on  them  and  very  little  clothes, 
screaming  what  Ibrahim  told  us  meant  "  Ho,  Chris- 
tians !  Ho,  Jews !  May  the  Lord  leave  not  a  bit  of 
you." 

The  afternoon's  ride  was  lovely.  The  fields  dark 
green  with  young  wheat  and  barley,  dotted  with  the 
light  gray  green  of  the  olive-trees.  And  here  we  are 
now  at  Shechem.  Before  us  is  Mt.  Ebal,  behind  us 
is  Mt.  Gerizim.  Here  is  where  Jacob  bought  "  the 
parcel  of  ground ;  "  where  the  curses  and  the  blessings 
were  pronounced  from  hiU  to  hiU  across  this  ampithe- 
atre,  where  the  town  lies  and  where  the  Ark  stood. 
Here  is  where  Joshua  collected  his  tribes  for  his  last 
charge,  and  more  than  all,  here  is  where  Jesus  came 
and  lived  two  days  after  his  conversation  with  the  wo- 
man at  the  well  which  we  shall  see  to-morrow.  The 
city  itself  is  large  and  charmingly  old  and  quaint. 
There  are  about  fifteen  hundred  Samaritans  left,  the 
only  remnant  of  their  people.  We  have  been  to  see 
their  synagogue,  a  dingy  little  hole,  where  a  splen- 
did old  priest,  in  red  turban  and  gray  beard,  showed 
us  their  famous  roll  of  the  Pentateuch,  which  they 
claim  is  thirty -two  hundred  years  old,  and  written 
by  the  son  of  Eleazer,  son  of  Aaron.  There  is  a 
very  fine  old  mosque  too.  As  we  passed  through 
the  streets,  the  smaU  boys  cursed  us  and  spit  at  us. 
Think  of  that  for  a  free  American  citizen  to  stand. 
Two  days  more  to  Jerusalem.  To-night  we  sleep 
under  the  shadow  of  Gerizim.  Good-night.  It  will 
be  good  to  get  your  letters  by  next  Thursday. 

Phillips. 


JERUSALEM.  67 

Mediterranean  Hotel,  jERUsAiiEM, 
Friday  Morning,  December  22,  1865. 

I  add  another  half  sheet,  just  to  say  that  we  are  in 
Jerusalem.  We  arrived  last  night  about  five  o'clock, 
and  I  am  writing  now,  before  breakfast,  with  my 
window  looking  out  on  the  Mount  of  Olives.  I 
can  hardly  realize  that  I  am  here.  Our  day's  ride 
yesterday  was  rocky  and  tiresome.  "  The  hills  stand 
about  Jerusalem  "  and  make  the  approach  slow.  The 
only  especially  interesting  places  were  Bethel,  a  poor 
little  village,  on  a  plateau  surrounded  by  hills. 
There  is  nothing  attractive  in  the  site,  and  nothing  in 
the  town ;  but  every  association  makes  it  interesting. 
Ramah  stood  up  on  our  left,  a  village  with  an  old 
square  tower.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  Neby- 
Samuel,  the  old  Mizpah,  where  Samuel  is  buried,  rose 
high  on  our  right,  and  just  before  we  saw  Jerusalem 
we  crossed  the  side  of  a  high  hiU,  which  is  the  old 
Gibeah  of  Saul. 

It  was  about  four  when  we  rode  up  the  slope  of  the 
hill  of  Scopus,  and  got  all  at  once  the  full  sight  of 
Jerusalem.  It  lies  nobly  surrounded  by  its  moun- 
tains, and  overlooked  on  the  eastern  side  by  the  Mount 
of  Olives,  which,  though  only  a  hill,  is  higher  than  I 
thought.  Between  it  and  the  city  is  the  valley  of 
Jehoshaphat.  We  entered  the  city  on  the  north  by 
the  Damascus  gate.  The  first  sound  I  heard  in  it 
was  the  muezzin  on  a  minaret  calling  the  Moslems  to 
prayers.  The  interior  of  the  city  is  like  all  Eastern 
towns,  filthy,  narrow,  noisy,  and  when  the  novelty  is 
off  disgusting,  but  I  am  not  going  to  write  about  the 
city  now.  I  am  here,  and  there  is  the  Mount  of 
Olives  right  before  me. 

I  fear  a  little  of  my  first  enthusiasm  on  arriving  at 


68  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Jerusalem  may  have  been  in  the  prospect  of  a  tem- 
porary return  to  some  of  the  hixuries  of  civilization,  a 
bath,  a  bed,  and  a  shave.  We  found  them  all  good  at 
this  hotel,  and  then  the  letters  !  No  less  than  ten,  and 
a  half  dozen  newspapers.  I  reveled  in  them  all  the 
evening,  and  rejoiced  to  hear  of  you  all  well.  They 
took  me  back  home  for  the  night.  Another  glorious 
day  to  begin  to  see  Jerusalem.  We  shall  have  plenty 
of  time  here,  for  there  is  no  steamer  for  Alexandria 
till  January  4.  And  now,  again,  good-by,  and  God 
bless  you  all  always. 

Jebusalem,  Saturday  Evening, 
December  23,  1865. 

Dear  Father,  —  This  comes  from  the  Holy  City. 
I  suppose  you  have  heard  by  mother's  letter  of  my 
arrival  here,  day  before  yesterday.  Two  days  have 
been  spent  now  in  sight-seeing.  Yesterday,  the 
Mount  of  Olives,  Gethsemane,  the  valley  of  Jehosh- 
aphat,  and  the  Brook  Kidron,  the  city  walls  in  the 
afternoon,  the  weekly  sight  of  the  poor  Jews  wailing 
outside  the  old  Temple  wall.  To-day,  the  Mosque 
of  Omar,  the  site  of  the  great  Temple,  the  valley  of 
Hinnom,  the  pool  of  Siloam,  again  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  the  Jews'  synagogue,  the  tombs  of  Zechariah, 
the  Virgin,  St.  James,  and  all  the  others,  and  the 
church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  which  includes  within 
itself  the  Tomb  and  Calvary.  Are  not  these  names 
enough?  We  lodge  here  on  the  Via  Dolorosa,  near 
what  is  said  to  be  the  top  of  Calvary.  But,  ah ! 
monkery  has  been  so  busy  manufacturing  all  sorts 
of  holy  sites  that  one  knows  not  what  to  believe. 
Calvary  is  at  the  top  of  a  dirty  paved  street,  in  a 
chapel  of  a  gaudy  church ;  Gethsemane  is  a  flower- 


JERUSALEM.  69 

garden  witli  a  liigh  wall,  redeemed  only  by  eight  very 
old  olive-trees ;  only  tlie  great  general  aspect  of  the 
whole,  Mount  Zion,  Mount  Moriah,  Mount  Olivet, 
and  the  deep  ravines,  these  are  past  all  doubt  and 
full  of  inspiration.     They  have  been  two  rich  days. 

Saturday,  December  30,  1865. 

My  energetic  letter-writing  has  paused  for  a  week. 
I  take  it  up  again  to  tell  you  of  my  tours  around 
Jerusalem.  Last  Sunday  morning  we  attended 
service  in  the  English  church,  and  after  an  early 
dinner  took  our  horses  and  rode  to  Bethlehem.  It 
was  only  about  two  hours  when  we  came  to  the  town, 
situated  on  an  eastern  ridge  of  a  range  of  hills, 
surrounded  by  its  terraced  gardens.  It  is  a  good- 
looking  town,  better  built  than  any  other  we  have 
seen  in  Palestine.  The  great  church  of  the  Nativity 
is  its  most  prominent  object;  it  is  shared  by  the 
Greeks,  Latins,  and  Armenians,  and  each  church  has 
a  convent  attached  to  it.  We  were  hospitably 
received  in  the  Greek  convent,  and  furnished  with 
a  room.  Before  dark,  we  rode  out  of  town  to  the 
field  where  they  say  the  shepherds  saw  the  star.  It 
is  a  fenced  piece  of  ground  with  a  cave  in  it  (all  the 
Holy  Places  are  caves  here),  in  which,  strangely 
enough,  they  put  the  shepherds.  The  story  is  absurd, 
but  somewhere  in  those  fields  we  rode  through  the 
shepherds  must  have  been,  and  in  the  same  fields 
the  story  of  Euth  and  Boaz  must  belong.  As  we 
passed,  the  shepherds  were  still  "  keeping  watch  over 
their  flocks,"  or  leading  them  home  to  fold.  We  re- 
turned to  the  convent  and  waited  for  the  service, 
which  began  about  ten  o'clock  and  lasted  until 
three  (Christmas).     It  was  the  old  story  of  a  Romish 


70  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

service,  with  all  its  mummery,  and  tired  us  out. 
They  wound  up  with  a  wax  baby,  carried  in  proces- 
sion, and  at  last  laid  in  the  traditional  manger,  in  a 
grotto  under  the  church.  The  most  interesting  part 
was  the  crowd  of  pilgrims,  with  their  simple  faith 
and  eagerness  to  share  in  the  ceremonial.  We  went 
to  bed  very  tired. 

Christmas  morning,  we  rode  up  to  town  and 
went  to  service.  It  rained  all  that  day,  and  we 
stayed  in  the  house.  The  next  morning  we  were  off 
for  our  trip  to  the  Jordan.  Passing  out  of  St.  Ste- 
phen's Gate,  we  rode  past  Gethsemane,  and  around 
the  southern  slope  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  the  same 
road  by  which  Christ  made  his  triumphal  entry  from 
Bethany.  The  point  at  which  He  must  have  first 
come  in  view  of  the  city,  with  the  multitude  throw- 
ing the  branches  under  His  feet,  is  very  clearly  seen, 
and  very  interesting.  Passing  round  the  hill,  in 
about  an  hour  we  came  to  a  little  village  hid  away 
in  a  fold  of  the  valley,  as  quiet  and  out  of  the  way  a 
place  as  one  can  imagine.  This  is  Bethany ;  a  poor 
little  town  now.  They  show  still  the  tomb  of  Laza- 
rus,—  a  cave,  deep  and  dark  and  tomb-like.  All 
the  afternoon  we  rode  on  over  the  hills.  This  is 
a  dangerous  region,  and  we  had  a  guard  with  us,  a 
sheik,  and  three  soldiers  from  the  government  of 
Jerusalem.  However,  we  saw  no  robbers;  plenty 
of  Bedouins,  but  very  harmless.  Towards  night  we 
came  out  into  the  great  plain  of  Jordan,  wide,  green, 
and  beautiful.  We  crossed  the  "  Brook  Cherith  "  of 
Elijah  and  the  ravens,  and  went  to  the  site  of  old 
Jericho,  where  is  the  fountain  which  Elisha  changed 
from  bitter  to  sweet.  Then  across  the  plain  to  the 
site  of  the  later  Jericho,  which  Christ  entered.     This 


JERUSALEM.  71 

is  the  old  Gilgal.  They  showed  us  the  house  of 
Zaccheus.  We  camped  here,  and  after  dinner  the 
Bedouin  women  came  and  danced  their  wild  dances 
and  sang  their  wild  songs  and  got  their  backsheesh. 
Next  morning,  we  rode  down  the  plain  to  the  river, 
the  Jordan!  We  came  to  it  just  "  over  against 
Jericho,"  where  the  Israelites  may  have  crossed,  and 
just  where  tradition  says  that  John  preached  and 
Jesus  was  baptized.  The  stream  was  swift  and  tur- 
bid; about  as  wide  as  the  Shawsheen  where  you 
cross  it  going  from  Mr.  Tompkins's  to  grandmother's. 
We  saw  the  place  where  the  hosts  of  pilgrims  came 
to  bathe  at  the  Passover. 

From  the  Jordan  we  rode  an  hour  and  a  half 
to  the  Dead  Sea,  and  stood  on  its  desolate,  dreary 
shore,  and  tasted  its  dreadful  water.  The  view 
was  wild  and  melancholy,  and  still  appeared  full  of 
the  story  of  the  old  catastrophe.  In  the  after- 
noon, we  rode  across  the  hills  toward  the  Greek  con- 
vent of  Mar  Saba.  The  views  were  splendid.  We 
were  in  the  wilderness  of  Judea.  On  our  left  was 
the  Desert  of  Engedi,  where  David  fled  from  Saul. 
A  terrible  hail  and  sleet  storm  came  up  and  wet 
us  through,  and  we  were  glad  enough,  passing 
along  a  splendid  ravine,  through  which  the  Kidron 
flows,  to  find  a  picturesque  old  Greek  convent,  where 
sixty  monks  live  their  miserable,  useless  life.  They 
were  useful  for  once,  however,  for  they  took  us  in 
and  made  us  comfortable  for  the  night.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  us  among  the  brethren,  disturbing 
their  quiet  life  with  the  many  wants  of  tired,  wet, 
and  hungry  men.  The  convent  was  built  about  the 
grotto  of  an  old  hermit  years  ago,  and  is  surrounded 
by  the  deserted  caves  where  hundreds  of  hermits  used 


72  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

to  live.  Thursday  morning,  we  said  good-by  to  the 
monks  and  left  them  working  in  their  garden,  and 
took  up  our  way  toward  Hebron.  We  had  to  go 
first  to  Bethlehem  again.  We  passed  a  very  striking 
encampment  of  Bedouins,  with  their  black  goat's-hair 
tents  in  the  valley,  and  riding  through  the  fields  of 
the  shepherds  and  Ruth,  came  into  the  little  town. 
The  people,  who  are  very  handsome,  gathered  about 
us  to  sell  relics.  I  saw  some  very  beautiful  faces  in 
the  church  among  the  women,  on  the  night  of  the 
service ;  they  wear  a  peculiar  red  robe,  and  in  general 
seem  decidedly  superior  to  the  ordinary  inhabitants 
of  the  country.  We  went  into  the  church  again 
and  saw  it  more  thoroughly.  The  place  of  the  Na- 
tivity is  in  a  little  grotto  like  the  one  at  Nazareth. 
The  manger  is  in  an  altar  opposite.  The  grottos  of 
St.  Jerome  and  his  feUow-anchorites,  SS.  Eustasia 
and  Paula,  are  close  by.  Each  of  the  three  convents 
has  a  passage-way  down  to  the  altar  of  the  Nativity. 
We  rode  on  from  Bethlehem  along  an  old  aqueduct, 
which  leads  by  a  beautiful  green  vaUey,  in  which 
Solomon  had  his  gardens  and  country  houses,  to  the 
"  pools  of  Solomon,"  three  immense  reservoirs,  built 
to  supply  Jerusalem  with  water,  but  now  long  out 
of  repair  and  use.  He  says  in  Ecclesiastes  that  he 
made  him  "  pools  of  water."  From  here  to  Hebron, 
the  oldest  city  in  Palestine,  the  home  of  Abraham 
and  the  kings,  which  lies  in  a  broad  valley  five  hours 
from  the  pools.  What  a  ride  we  had  to  get  there. 
It  rained,  and  rained,  and  rained.  The  rocks  were 
slippery,  it  grew  dark,  the  horses  were  tired  out,  and 
glad  enough  we  were  to  get  to  the  town  and  find  a 
little  room  in  a  Jew's  house  (there  are  no  Christians, 
only  Jews  and  Moslems  in  the  place),  and  try  to  get 
dry  and  get  through  the  night. 


JERUSALEM.  73 

The  next  morning,  the  storm  was  just  as  bad,  or 
worse,  but  we  started.  There  is  not  much  to  see  in 
Hebron  except  the  place  itself,  and  that  we  could 
not  see.  The  cave  of  Machpelah  is  in  a  mosque, 
where  they  don't  admit  Christians,  so  we  looked 
at  the  outside.  Then  we  rode  by  a  splendid  great 
oak  at  Mamre,  which  they  call  the  oak  of  Abraham. 
This  is  the  valley  of  Eshcol.  And  then,  in  rain 
and  cold  and  discomfort,  we  struggled  back  to  Jeru- 
salem, lunched  at  the  pools  with  some  Nubian  sol- 
diers, who  are  there  as  guard,  passed  by  the  tomb  of 
Rachel,  just  outside  Bethlehem,  and  reached  our  hotel 
at  five  o'clock,  glad  enough  to  be  here.  This  is  the 
sketch  of  our  trip,  which  we  enjoyed  in  spite  of  its 
discomforts.  It  is  about  our  last.  Next  Tuesday,  we 
shall  leave  for  Jaffa,  to  catch  the  steamer  of  the  4th 
for  Alexandria. 

And  now,  what  aboiat  Jerusalem?  I  believe  I 
know  it  thoroughly.  I  have  seen  all  its  sights, 
have  walked  about  it,  and  marked  the  towers  thereof, 
till  I  understand  its  shape  and  spirit  pretty  well.  It 
is  not  large,  but  it  is  crowded  full  of  interest. 
Everywhere  you  get  striking  views,  —  Olivet,  with  the 
little  mosque  on  its  top,  the  great  mosque  on  Moriah, 
David's  tomb  on  Mount  Zion,  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
with  its  broken  dome,  on  Calvary.  You  cannot  get 
away  from  some  of  them.  Do  you  know  that  they 
have  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  Calvary  all  in  one 
church  ?  You  go  up  a  flight  of  a  dozen  stairs  from 
one  to  the  other.  But  I  must  not  attempt  to  describe 
Jerusalem.  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  when  I  get 
home.  Our  consul  here  and  Bishop  Gobat  of  the 
English  church  have  been  attentive.  It  is  sad  to  see 
how  Moslem  power  rules  here.  The  very  keys  of  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  are  kept  by  the  Mohammedans. 


74  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

I  need  n't  say  I  was  delighted  to  get  letters  here, 
and  hear  that  you  are  all  well.  I  have  read  them 
over  and  over,  and  now  am  looking  for  more  at 
Alexandria,  where  we  hope  to  arrive  on  Saturday 
next.  The  least  items  from  home,  you  know,  are 
interesting  to  us  away  off  here.  Tell  mother  her 
letters  are  most  welcome.  To-morrow  is  New  Year's 
Day.  A  happy  New  Year  to  all  of  you !  Good-by, 
God  bless  you  all. 

jEBUSAiiEM,  Monday,  January  1,  1866. 

I  must  wish  you  all  a  happy  New  Year.  It  is  a 
good  way  off,  but  I  am  sure  you  all  know  that  I  am 
doing  it  this  morning,  and  I  can  almost  hear  you 
wishing  it  back  to  me.  May  it  be  a  happy  year  to  all 
of  us.  Before  it  is  over,  God  grant  we  may  be 
together  again  safe.  Two  more  days  in  Jerusalem! 
Saturday,  I  went  out  to  see  the  old  cave  tombs,  which 
are  all  about  the  city,  the  tombs  of  the  Judges  and 
those  of  the  Kings.  Yesterday,  I  went  to  the 
English  church  in  the  morning,  and  heard  Bishop 
Gobat.  In  the  afternoon,  a  lovely  bright  sunny  day, 
I  walked  out  to  Bethany  and  back ;  over  the  summit 
of  Mt.  Olivet,  the  way  that  David  went  when  he  fled 
from  Absalom,  back  around  the  southern  ridge  of  the 
hill  where  Christ  came  in  on  his  triumphal  entry.  It 
was  a  delightful  walk. 

Appleton  received  a  bundle  of  Boston  Advertisers 
yesterday  afternoon,  which  were  very  refreshing. 
They  told  us  all  about  the  elections,  etc. 

TeU  mother  I  put  in  this  letter  for  her  the  head  of 
a  reed  which  was  "  shaken  by  the  wind  "  on  the  brink 
of  the  Jordan,  and  two  flowers  which  I  picked  in 
Gethsemane. 


JAFFA.  75 

Jaffa,  Wednesday  Evening,  January  3,  1866. 

So  far  westward.  Yesterday  morning  we  left 
Jerusalem,  seeing  our  last  where  we  saw  our  first  of 
it,  from  Mt.  Scopus.  Then  we  rode  to  the  hill  of 
Nebi-Samwil,  the  ancient  Mizpah,  where  Samuel  is 
buried.  There  is  a  splendid  view  from  the  top ;  an 
old  minaret  crowns  it.  Down  thence  through  Gibeon 
and  Beth-horon  and  the  valley  of  Ajalon,  where 
Joshua's  gTeat  battle  came  to  pass,  and  the  sun  and 
moon  stood  still.  The  ride  was  over  hill  and  valley, 
very  interesting.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  we  came 
down  into  the  great  coast  plain  of  Philistia,  and 
passed  through  Lud,  the  Lydda  of  the  Acts,  an  old 
town  with  the  remains  of  a  fine  church.  Another 
half  hour  brought  us  to  Ramleh,  where  we  camped 
last  night.  It  is  a  place  famous  in  Crusaders'  history. 
From  there,  a  three-hours'  ride  brought  us  here  to-day, 
with  no  accidents,  except  my  horse's  tumbling  into 
a  ditch  and  muddying  me  from  top  to  toe.  Jaffa  is 
the  old  Joppa,  and  we  went  to  see  the  house  of  Simon 
the  tanner,  "by  the  seaside,"  where  Peter  lodged.  It 
is  a  pretty  likely-looking  sort  of  place  for  a  tanner. 
Mr.  Kayat,  the  British  consul,  came  to  see  us  this 
afternoon ;  we  went  to  see  his  orange  gardens,  and  ate 
lots  of  the  ripe  fruit  off  the  trees.  We  are  lodged  in 
the  Russian  convent.  Was  n't  it  funny  to  find  our 
chairs  here  in  our  room,  rocking-chairs  and  all,  marked 
"  M.  L.  Gates,  66  Commercial  Street,  Boston  ?"  So  our 
Syria  is  over,  and  if  the  steamer  is  up  to  time 
to-morrow,  we  are  off  to  Alexandria. 

Jaffa,  Wednesday,  January  10,  1866. 
Here  we  are   still,  after  a  week  of  dreary  waiting 
and  discontent.     The  day  after  we  arrived,  a  storm 


76  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

came  up  and  has  lasted  until  to-day,  with  strong  west 
wind.  Not  one  of  the  three  steamers  that  ought  to 
have  touched  here  has  arrived,  and  we  have  no  news 
of  either  of  them.  Even  if  they  had  come,  we  could 
not  have  got  aboard,  for  the  harbor  is  rough  and  the 
sea  runs  very  high.  We  have  lost  a  week  in  waiting. 
We  have  had  all  sorts  of  plans :  sometimes,  to  go  by 
land  up  to  Beyrout,  and  try  to  get  aboard  there; 
sometimes,  to  take  camels  and  go  across  the  desert 
direct  to  Cairo,  but  the  torrents  of  rain  have  hindered 
our  moving.  We  could  not  travel  now  without  get- 
ting swept  away  with  the  full  streams,  so  we  must 
wait  and  wait.  ,  To-day  is  bright  and  pleasant,  but 
the  high  wind  still  blows  on  shore  and  no  news  of 
the  steamer. 


Steamer  Egypto,  between  Jaffa  and  Alexandria, 
Sunday,  January  14,  1866. 

We  are  off  at  last.  Yesterday  morning,  there 
came  along  an  Austrian  steamer  bound  for  Alex- 
andria, and  as  the  wind  and  sea  had  moderated,  we 
went  aboard  her  and  shall  be  in  Alexandria  to-night. 
We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  and  smooth  passage  so 
far,  and  are  glad  to  be  out  of  eTaffa,  which  has  nothing 
to  boast  of  but  its  oranges.  They  are  splendid,  and 
did  n't  I  eat  them  I 

Steamer  M(eris,  January  23,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  This  is  one  of  the  times  for  let- 
ter-writing. I  am  on  a  four  days'  voyage  from  Alex- 
andria to  Messina.  The  first  two  days  the  sea  was 
terribly  rough,  and  this  French  boat,  being  a  screw 
steamer,  rocked   horridly,  so  that  it  was  out  of  the 


EGYPT.  77 

question  to  think  of  writing,  or  anything  else,  except 
holding  on  and  not  getting  washed  overboard,  or 
pitched  downstairs.  They  were  days  when,  in  the 
elegant  and  expressive  language  of  Artemus  Ward, 
it  was  hard  for  the  passengers  "  to  keep  inside  their 
berths  or  outside  their  dinners."  Still  it  was  the  first 
very  bad  sea  I  have  had  anywhere,  and  I  must  not 
complain.  To-day  is  calm  and  still,  and  we  are 
getting  on  fast  towards  Sicily. 

On  arriving  at  Alexandria,  after  our  long  imprison- 
ment at  Jaffa,  I  found  a  host  of  letters,  and  received 
some  more  the  day  I  left.  You  may  guess  they  were 
welcome.  The  latest  was  yours  of  Christmas  Day, 
and  none  better  deserves  an  answer.  I  will  tell  you 
in  a  few  minutes  about  what  I  saw  in  Egypt.  My 
stay  in  Egypt  was  short.  Alexandria  was  the  mean- 
est place  I  have  seen  yet.  Enterprising,  busy,  but 
perfectly  unattractive.  Too  Western  to  be  good 
Eastern,  and  too  Eastern  to  be  good  Western ;  too  old 
to  be  good  new,  and  too  new  to  be  good  old.  A  bad 
mixture.  Cleopatra's  Needle  is  an  obelisk  in  a  cow- 
yard.  Pompey's  Pillar  is  an  old  column  on  a  hill 
overlooking  lake  Mareotis.  It  has  nothing  in  the 
world  to  do  with  Pompey,  and  is  principally  interest- 
ing from  some  American  sailors  flying  a  kite  over  it 
once,  as  recorded  in  the  pages  of  the  American  First 
Class  Book.  But  if  Alexandria  is  detestable,  Cairo 
is  delightful.  I  could  write  pages,  yea,  a  book,  about 
the  dear  old  place,  with  its  bazaars,  mosques,  gardens, 
palm  forests,  palaces,  donkeys  and  donkey-boys,  its 
great  old  river,  and  its  Pyramids.  But  I  won't.  Let 
it  be  enough  that  one  morning  I  straddled  a  diminu- 
tive long-eared  creature,  about  as  big  as  the  family 
rocking-horse,  with  a  jbrpwn,  bare-legged  boy  running 


78  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

behind,  poking  the  donkey  and  screaming  at  him  all 
the  way ;  I  rode  through  Cairo,  was  ferried  over  the 
dreamy  old  Nile,  and  then  rode  across  its  gorgeous 
green  valley,  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  Pyramid  of 
Cheops,  and  looked  out  on  the  Desert.  The  usual  army 
of  wild  Arabs  dragged  me  to  the  top.  The  ascent  is 
not  hard,  but  they  insist  on  giving  you  their  hand 
and  pulling  you  up  from  step  to  step.  The  easiest 
way  is  to  let  them  do  it.  All  the  while  they  chant 
a  wild  stave  in  the  Hiawatha  measure,  something  like 

Good  Howadji !  Great  Howadji ! 
Strong  Howadji !  Lots  of  money  ! 
Give  us  Backsheesh  !     Plenty  Backsheesh  I 

When  you  get  to  the  top,  you  do  give  them  as  much 
backsheesh  as  will  stop  their  tongues  and  let  you  enjoy 
one  of  the  strangest  and  most  memorable  views  that 
the  world  has  to  show.  I  sha'n't  attempt  to  describe 
it.  One  must  get  on  the  top  of  that  Pyramid  before 
he  can  know  anything  about  it.  When  I  got  down, 
I  went  and  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  Sphinx,  and 
looked  up  into  her  vast  stone  face.  If  the  Pyramids 
are  great  in  their  way,  she  is  a  thousand  times  greater 
in  hers,  as  the  grandest  and  most  expressive  monu- 
ment of  a  religion  in  the  world.  But  I  am  writing 
a  letter  about  Egypt,  and  I  did  n't  intend  to.  The 
mosques  of  Cairo  are  very  attractive,  vaster  and 
more  gorgeous  than  any  elsewhere,  and  containing 
some  of  the  most  interesting  specimens  of  old  Arab 
architecture,  in  which  are  the  germs  of  a  good  deal  of 
modern  European.  Then  we  went  out  to  visit  the 
viceroy's  gardens  and  palace,  and  saw  something  of 
Egyptian  luxury.  It  was  a  place  that  Anthony  and 
Cleopatra  might  have  reveled  in.  While  we  were  in 
Cairo,  the  season  of  Ramazan,  the  Mohammedan  Lent, 


MESSINA.  79 

began.     They  fast  all  the  daytime,  and  carry  on  all 

night.     Their  worst  privation  is  from  tobacco.     It  is 

terrible  to  go  through  the  bazaars  and  see  the  poor 

old  fellows  looking  so  melancholy  and  cross,  holding 

their  pipes  all  ready  filled,  awaiting  sunset  to  light  up. 

The  nights  of  Ramazan  are  gorgeous  with  lights  and 

feasting.     But  I  positively  won't  say  anything  more 

about  Egypt. 

Hotel  Trinacria,  Messina, 
Tuesday  Evening,  January  23. 

My  letter  was  cut  short  this  morning  by  finding 
how  near  we  were  to  our  port.  I  went  up  on  deck, 
and  there  was  the  coast  of  Italy,  the  sole  of  the 
"  boot "  on  one  side,  and  Mt.  Etna,  with  its  great 
white  sides  and  little  spire  of  smoke,  upon  the  other. 
About  one  o'clock  we  arrived  here.  I  had  some 
hopes,  in  coming  here,  of  meeting  the  boat  for  Greece, 
and  making  my  visit  there  now.  But  she  passed  us 
going  out,  about  three  hours  before  we  came  into  the 
harbor.  There  was  no  connection  from  Alexandria  to 
Greece  for  ten  days,  so  I  did  not  wait  there.  I  shall 
go  to  Naples  to-morrow,  and  next  week  to  Rome,  where 
I  shall  stay  till  after  Carnival,  then  make  a  trip  to 
Greece  and  be  back  by  Holy  Week.  I  am  alone  again. 
Dr.  Leeds  stayed  in  Egypt,  and  Mr.  Appleton  has 
gone  on  to  Paris.  He  wiU  probably  join  me  to 
Greece.  My  whole  scene  has  changed.  Italy  is  all 
around  me.  This  is  a  delightful  old  town,  with  a 
quaint  old  cathedral  and  square,  and  pictures  of  Ital- 
ian life  at  every  step.  I  am  depending,  with  aU  my 
heart,  on  Naples  and  Rome. 

Tell  Mr.  John  that  I  expect  him  to  appreciate  my 
brotherly  attention  in  going  to  the  Egyptian  post- 
office,  in  Cairo,  and  at  an  expense  of  much  gesticu- 


80  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

lation  buying  a  full  set  of  the  new  Egyptian  postage 
stamps,  which  I  am  told  are  rare  in  America.  I 
think  they  deserve  a  letter  at  least.  I  was  glad  to  hear 
how  Christmas  passed  with  you.  Before  this  you  have 
heard  how  I  passed  mine.  I  saw  lots  of  "  Little  Wan- 
derers "  in  Syria  and  Egypt,  and  now  Italy  seems  as 
full  of  them  as  either. 

On  board  Stbambb  II  Gouribr  di  Sicttja, 
Wednesday  P.  m.,  January  24. 

I  have  been  all  the  morning  seeing  Messina.  It  is 
a  delightfully  Italian  town,  lying  along  the  shore, 
backed  by  a  wilderness  of  green  hills.  They  have  a 
lovely  old  cathedral,  full  of  elaborate  carvings  and 
mosaics,  and  the  views  everywhere  of  the  straits 
and  the  hazy  Italian  shore  opposite  are  beautiful. 
The  great  show  of  the  town  I  have  missed.  It  is  an 
autograph  letter  which  the  Virgin  Mary  sent  them 
onee,  with  a  lock  of  her  hair.  She  is  their  special 
patroness.  The  priest  who  had  the  key  of  the  cathe- 
dral was  out,  so  I  could  not  see  it.  Now  we  are  on 
our  way  to  Naples,  just  passing  between  Scylla  and 
Charybdis.  We  are  going  through  the  old  peril  safely, 
I  think.  This  little  steamer  was  built  at  Glasgow 
in  Scotland.  We  are  leaving  Sicily  and  Messina  be- 
hind us.  Messina,  you  know,  is  the  town  of  "  Much 
Ado  about  Nothing."  There  Benedict  and  Beatrice 
courted,  and  walking  out  last  evening  I  saw  honest 
Dogberry  "  comprehend  a  vagrom  man "  in  the 
streets. 

HOTBIi  VlTTORIA,  NAPLES, 

Sunday,  January  28. 

Three  days,  now,  in  this  most  beautiful  spot  on 
earth.    No  one  can  wonder  at  people's  enthusiasm  about 


NAPLES.  81 

Naples.  I  have  seen  some  things  in  my  travels  which 
were  not  up  to  the  mark,  but  of  the  beauty  of  Naples 
and  its  bay,  the  half  has  not  been  told,  simply  because 
it  can't  be.  As  I  look  out  of  my  window  now,  I  can 
see  the  blue  bay,  with  Capri  lying  off  in  front,  the 
promontory  of  Baiae,  and  Puteoli  stretching  its  arm 
around  it,  the  green  hills  covered  with  olive  groves 
and  vineyards  shutting  in  the  land  side,  and  the  bright 
gardens  of  the  Villa  Reale,  with  their  fountains,  stat- 
ues, and  gay  promenaders,  lying  in  the  foreground; 
the  whole  in  a  climate  such  as  we  have  in  our  best 
June  days,  and  an  atmosphere  such  as  we  never  have. 
I  have  seen  something  about  Naples.  One  day  to 
Puteoli,  where  is  a  very  perfect  old  amphitheatre, 
and  where  Paul  landed  to  go  up  to  Rome ;  to  Baise 
and  Cunise,  Virgil's  Elysian  Fields,  Lake  Avernus 
and  Sibyl's  Cave,  up  as  far  as  Cape  Misenum.  An- 
other day  down  the  coast  to  Salerno,  thence  to  Psestum, 
where  are  the  most  perfectly  preserved  Greek  temples 
in  the  world.  That  is  one  of  the  greatest  things  to 
see  in  Italy.  The  road  there  is  very  beautiful,  a  little 
given  to  banditti,  so  that  we  had  to  take  a  guard  of 
soldiers.  We  had  no  adventure,  and  got  home  safe. 
The  two  greatest  wonders  of  Naples  I  have  yet  to  see, 
Pompeii  and  Vesuvius.  The  mountain,  which  is  not 
vast  or  grand,  but  simply  beautiful,  overlooks  you 
everywhere  you  go,  but  I  have  not  yet  seen  even  a 
whiff  of  smoke  out  of  his  great  pipe.  Etna  is  a  much 
more  splendid  mountain,  and  so  is  Stromboli,  which  we 
passed  the  other  day  coming  up  from  Messina.  You 
see  Italy  is  beginning  with  even  more  fascination  than 
anything  yet,  and  my  next  three  months  are  going  to 
be  very  full.  I  am  afraid  my  letters  will  not  be  quite 
so  long  now.     I  shall  have  no  more  sea  voyages  to 


82  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

write  in,  and  shall  have  employments  for  my  evenings 
out  of  doors.  I  will  try  my  best,  and  you  must  allow 
I  have  done  splendidly  for  the  last  three  months. 
For  the  present,  this  is  all.  I  am  very  well,  and  in 
first-rate  condition  every  way.  Shall  probably  go  up 
to  Rome  next  Saturday.  I  hope  to  get  some  more  let- 
ters there.  Good-by ;  give  love  to  all,  and  don't  for- 
get your  affectionate  brother,  who  expects  to  get  home 
in  September.  Phillips. 

Rome,  Sunday,  February  4, 1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  In  Rome  at  last,  at  the  place  of 
all  others  in  Europe  that  I  have  most  wished  to  reach. 
I  got  here  last  night  about  seven  o'clock,  and  this 
morning  before  breakfast  went  down  the  Corso  to  the 
Capitol,  and  through  the  Forum  to  the  Coliseum.  It 
is  exactly  as  I  have  always  pictured  it,  only  a  great 
deal  more  interesting.  This  is  really  all  I  have  seen 
of  the  city  yet.  I  went  to  service  at  the  American 
embassy  this  morning,  and  found  the  place  crowded 
with  Americans,  lots  of  people  that  I  knew. 

Since  my  letter  went  to  William  I  have  been  having 
a  great  time  in  Naples,  seeing  everything  in  that  most 
beautiful  of  cities.  One  long  day  I  spent  at  Pompeii, 
which  is  most  wonderful,  with  its  old  streets  and 
houses,  uncovered  just  as  they  were  left  the  day  that 
the  great  eruption  came  and  buried  them.  Then  I 
went  up  Vesuvius,  and  saw  where  the  eruption  came 
from,  ventured  down  into  the  crater,  which  is  very 
grand,  and  stood  on  the  hot  ground,  where  another 
eruption  is  cooking,  to  burst  out  by  and  by.  Another 
day  I  went  down  to  Sorrento  along  the  shores  of  the 
bay,  spent  a  night  there,  and  then  crossed  over  to 
Capri,  the  beautiful  island  where  the  old  Roman  em- 


ROME.  83 

perors  had  their  palaces  and  lived  their  horrible  lives. 
I  spent  a  day  at  the  great  museum  of  Naples,  where 
all  the  statues  and  other  antiquities  from  Pompeii  and 
Herculaneum,  and  the  other  ruins  in  that  neighbor- 
hood, have  been  collected  into  the  most  enormous 
repository  in  the  world.  It  is  very  rich  and  very  beau- 
tiful. On  the  whole,  Naples  has  delighted  me,  and 
I  put  it  along  with  Edinburgh,  Constantinople,  and 
Damascus  as  one  of  the  four  great  cities  of  the  world 
in  beauty.  There  is  a  railway  from  there  here,  taking 
about  seven  hours. 

Thursday  Evening,  February  8. 

I  have  been  very  busy  all  the  week,  and  now  am  so 
sleepy  I  can  hardly  keep  my  eyes  open,  but  I  will  send 
this  off  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  well  and  enjoying 
every  moment.  Rome  is  so  much  greater  and  fuller 
than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal, 
but  when  I  think  what  there  is  right  about  me,  it 
seems  as  if  I  had  seen  nothing ;  I  have  wandered  all 
through  St.  Peter's,  spent  a  long  day  in  the  wilderness 
of  the  Vatican,  another  in  the  great  museums  of  the 
Capitol,  and  followed  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  skirted 
with  ruins  of  the  old  temples,  palaces,  and  theatres  of 
this  wonderful  race,  roamed  through  some  of  the  pic- 
ture galleries  of  the  great  palaces,  found  my  way  into 
a  few  of  the  numberless  gorgeous  churches,  and  to-day 
have  been  from  one  to  another  of  the  studios  of  our 
own  living  artists.  All  this  has  swallowed  up  many 
hours. 

Then  the  Carnival  is  in  full  rage,  and  every  after- 
noon it  is  hard  to  keep  away  from  the  Corso,  where 
every  old  gray  palace  is  hung  with  bright  red,  and  the 
balconies  are  filled  with  gay  people  full  of  fun,  pelting 
with  flowers,  sugar-pliuus,  and  confetti  the  queerest- 


84  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

looking  crowd,  in  eveiy  sort  of  wild  harlequin  dis- 
guises, that  is  running  riot  in  the  street  below  them. 
Really,  while  I  am  in  Rome  you  must  not  look  for  any 
more  long  letters  of  the  Syria  sort.  I  will  tell  you 
about  it  some  day.  The  city  is  full,  too,  of  Americans, 
and  lots  of  people  that  I  know  are  here.  I  have  made 
some  very  pleasant  acquaintances  among  the  Ameri- 
cans who  are  living  here,  and  who  know  Rome  well. 
The  state  of  the  country  is  terrible,  and  the  poor 
Pope  is  in  a  most  miserable  position.  I  saw  his  Holi- 
ness the  other  day,  driving  in  splendid  state,  but  had 
no  good  look  at  him  through  the  carriage  windows. 
The  swarm  of  priests  and  monks  of  many  sorts  in  the 
streets  is  horrible.  I  have  n't  heard  from  you  since  I 
left  Alexandria.     I  hope  to  get  letters  to-day. 

Friday,  February  9,  1866. 

No  letters  to-day.  What  has  become  of  you  all  ? 
Well,  this  must  go.  It  is  a  poor  letter  to  send  from 
the  Eternal  City,  but  it  is  so  hopeless  in  a  place  like 
this  to  try  to  tell  you  what  one  sees.  One  does  n't 
know  where  to  begin.  To-day,  for  instance,  I  spent 
the  morning  in  two  of  the  great  picture  galleries,  in 
the  Borghese  and  Corsini  palaces,  then  two  or  three 
hours  in  the  sculptors'  studios,  among  others  Rogers's, 
who  has  by  far  the  best  bust  of  Mr.  Lincoln  that  has 
yet  been  made  ;  and  the  afternoon  among  the  ruins, 
which  are  exhaustless.  So  make  allowance  for  short- 
comings and  forgive  me.  This  will  do  at  any  rate  to 
tell  you  that  I  am  splendidly  well  and  happy,  and  love 
you  all  as  much  as  ever.  I  wish  you  could  see,  feel, 
and  taste  this  glorious  soft  Italian  weather.  Good-by. 
God  bless  you  all.  Six  months  more  and  I  shall  be 
almost  home.     Your  loving  son, 

Phillips. 


ROME.  85 

Rome,  February  19,  1866. 
To  the  Sunday-Schools  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
and  Cliapel,  Philadelphia : 
My  dear  Children,  —  When  I  think  how  near 
Easter  is  coming,  I  think  also  how  pleasant  it  would 
be  if  I  could  spend  that  day  at  home  in  Philadelphia ; 
and  particularly,  I  wish  I  could  be  with  you  in  the 
Sunday-school  and  at  your  Easter  service.  As  I  have 
no  chance  of  that,  I  want  to  write  a  few  words  which 
I  hope  Mr.  Coffin  will  find  time  to  read  to  you  some 
time  in  the  course  of  the  day,  as  my  Easter  greeting. 
For  of  all  my  friends  in  America  there  are  none  by 
whom  I  should  be  more  sorry  to  be  forgotten,  or  whom 
I  should  be  more  sorry  to  forget,  than  the  circle 
who  make  up  our  schools  and  classes.  I  do  not  mind 
telling  you  (though  of  course  I  should  not  like  to  have 
you  speak  of  it  to  any  of  the  older  people  of  the 
church)  that  I  am  much  afraid  the  younger  part  of 
my  congregation  has  more  than  its  share  of  my 
thoughts  and  interest.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  many 
Sunday  mornings  since  I  left  you  I  have  seemed  to 
stand  in  the  midst  of  our  crowded  schoolroom  again, 
and  look  about  and  know  every  face  and  every  class 
just  as  I  used  to ;  nor  how  many  times  I  have  heard 
one  of  our  home  hymns  ringing  very  strangely  and 
sweetly  through  the  different  music  of  some  far-off 
country.  I  remember  especially  on  Christmas  Eve, 
when  I  was  standing  in  the  old  church  at  Bethlehem, 
close  to  the  spot  where  Jesus  was  born,  when  the 
whole  church  was  ringing  hour  after  hour  with  the 
splendid  hymns  of  praise  to  God,  how  again  and 
again  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  hear  voices  that  I  knew 
well,  telling  each  other  of  the  ''Wonderful  Night" 
of  the  Saviour's  birth,  as  I  had  heard  them  a  year 


86  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

before  ;  and  I  assure  you  I  was  glad  to  shut  my  ears 
for  a  while  and  listen  to  the  more  familiar  strains 
that  came  wandering  to  me  haKway  round  the  world. 
But  I  meant  to  write  you  an  Easter  letter,  and  to 
give  you  an  Easter  gi-eeting.  As  I  have  gone  to  Pal- 
estine once  in  this  letter  already,  let  me  take  you 
there  again.  In  the  Holy  City  of  Jerusalem,  you 
know,  Christians  built  ever  so  many  years  ago  a 
noble  church  directly  over  the  place  where  it  is  be- 
lieved Jesus  was  buried,  and  right  under  the  dome  of 
this  grand  old  church,  they  have  built  up  a  little  tem- 
ple of  marble  which  incloses  what  is  believed  to  be 
the  real  tomb  where  the  Saviour  lay  —  and  this,  of 
course,  is  a  very  holy  place ;  and  when  I  was  in  Jeru- 
salem I  used  to  go  and  stand  by  the  side  of  that  cold 
stone  and  watch  the  endless  stream  of  worshipers 
that  came  up  there  to  pray.  They  were  pilgrims  from 
every  quarter  of  the  globe;  in  all  kinds  of  dress, 
with  all  kinds  of  faces,  and  all  shades  of  color.  First 
an  old  man  that  seemed  to  have  used  almost  the  last 
strength  that  was  in  him  to  crawl  from  his  far-off 
house  in  frozen  Russia  to  see  the  Holy  Sepulchre 
before  he  died ;  then  a  young  girl  with  her  face  full 
of  enthusiasm,  who  had  apparently  given  all  her  youth- 
ful strength  away  and  came  pale  and  weary,  but  full 
of  joy,  to  the  place  that  she  had  longed  for  by  day  and 
dreamed  about  by  night ;  then  a  mother  would  come 
with  her  child  and  press  its  little  lips  against  the  cold 
marble,  while  the  baby  would  shrink  back  and  look 
up  in  her  face  as  if  he  wondered  what  it  meant.  It 
was  a  very  touching  sight  to  me.  They  crept  on  their 
knees  through  the  little  low  doorway  into  the  tomb, 
that  is  always  lighted  with  countless  lamps  of  gold  and 
silver ;  and  as  if  there  were  no  way  strong  enough  for 


ROME.  87 

them  to  express  the  feeling  that  had  brought  them  so 
far  to  see  this  holiest  of  all  places,  they  cast  them- 
selves upon  the  stone  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  and 
cried  as  if  their  hearts  would  break  for  joy.  It  was  a 
strange  and  very  touching  sight.  But  when  I  recall 
it  now  in  connection  with  Easter  Day,  the  one  thing  I 
think  of  most  is  the  emptiness  of  that  tomb  in  Jerusa- 
lem, and  the  ways  we  have  of  doing  honor  to  Jesus 
which  are  so  much  better  than  making  pilgrimages  to 
the  place  where  he  was  once  buried.  You  remember 
what  the  angel  said  to  the  disciples  on  the  first  Easter 
morning,  when  they  made  their  pilgrimage  to  the 
Holy  Sepulchre :  "  Why  seek  ye  the  living  among 
the  dead  ?  He  is  not  here.  He  is  risen."  It  seems 
as  if  one  heard  those  words  all  the  time  he  is  walking 
about  in  Jerusalem.  Let  us,  my  dear  children,  rejoice 
together  on  Easter  Day  in  the  great  Easter  truth  that 
Jesus  our  Saviour  is  to  be  found  and  worshiped, 
not  in  any  cold  tomb,  but  in  any  heart,  no  matter 
how  young  and  humble,  that  is  warm  with  his  love, 
and  bright  with  the  constant  cheerful  effort  to  do 
whatever  duty  He  desires.  That  is  the  happy  temple 
in  which  He  loves  to  live,  and  I  hope  every  one  of  us, 
this  happy  Easter  Day,  will  find  this  Saviour  very 
near  to  us,  risen  from  his  tomb  and  come  to  live 
with  us,  and  help  us,  and  be  our  friend  and  brother,  in 
every  joy  and  sorrow  of  our  lives.  That  is  the  Easter 
prayer  which  I  pray  with  all  my  heart  for  each 
one  of  you. 

I  must  not  write  only  to  the  members  of  our  schools 
and  classes  at  the  church  and  at  the  chapel.  I  must 
not  and  do  not  forget  the  teachers,  who  are  laboring 
on  in  their  good  work.  My  dear  friends,  let  me  bid 
you  Godspeed  out  of  a  heart  full  of  sympathy  with 


88  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

you  and  with  your  work.  May  your  Easter  be  a  day 
of  renewed  courage,  and  hopefulness,  and  love.  May 
God  help  you  in  your  happy  work,  now  and  always. 
It  will  be  a  happy  day  for  me  when  I  stand  once 
more  among  you  to  be  your  fellow-worker. 

I  suppose  we  shall  none  of  us  meet  this  Easter 
without  thinking  of  the  last.  What  a  sad  day  it  was ! 
You  remember  we  had  to  take  all  our  flowers  down 
and  hang  the  church  in  black,  and  our  celebration, 
with  its  cheerful  carols,  was  given  up,  for  it  was  just 
then  that  we  heard  the  terrible  news  of  our  good 
President's  murder.  We  shall  never,  any  of  us, 
forget  that  day.  Every  Easter  will  always  bring  it 
back.  And  especially  this  year,  I  am  sure,  none 
of  us  will  keep  the  holy  day  without  thanking  God 
that  the  cause  which  our  President  died  for  has  been 
so  victorious,  that  peace  has  come  back  to  us,  that  the 
great  rebellion  has  been  defeated,  and  that  men  and 
women  can  no  more  be  slaves  in  America  forever. 
We  must  be  very  thankful  for  these  things,  and  pray 
God  earnestly  to  keep  our  dear  country  always  from 
these  two  great  sins  of  rebellion  against  the  govern- 
ment and  oppression  of  any  of  its  people. 

But  my  letter,  which  meant  to  be  very  short,  has 
forgotten  itself,  and  wandered  along  over  all  these 
pages.  There  is  much  more  that  I  want  to  say,  but  I 
must  wait  till  I  get  home,  and  can  say  it  myself. 
That  will  be,  I  hope,  very  early  in  the  fall.  I  shall 
spend  my  Easter  here  in  Rome,  after  making  a  short 
journey  first  to  Greece.  I  wish  I  could  paint  for  you 
in  words  the  beauty  of  the  springtime  in  this  delightful 
climate,  which  is  already  blossoming  into  siunmer, 
while  America  is  still  shivering  with  the  cold  of  its 
severe  winter. 


ROME.  89 

And  now,  my  dear  friends,  good-by,  and  may  God  our 
Father  bless  and  keep  us  all.  If  He  spares  us  to  meet 
again,  I  think  we  shall  all  try  to  work  harder  than  ever 
to  serve  and  please  Him.  Let  us  pray  for  one  another 
that  we  may  be  kept  from  every  danger  and  every  sin. 
I  let  my  mind  run  along  our  schoolrooms,  and  as  I 
see  you  there  I  ask  a  blessing  for  each  of  you.  May 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  rose  on  Easter  Day,  rise 
anew  on  this  Easter  in  all  your  hearts,  and  be  a  living 
Saviour,  a  friend,  a  brother,  a  helper,  and  a  comforter 
to  you  all,  all  the  days  of  your  lives.  May  He  live 
with  us  until,  when  we  have  done  our  work,  He  takes 
us  to  live  with  Him  forever.  Always,  my  dear  chil- 
dren. 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  rector, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

Rome,  Tuesday,  February  20,  1866. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  wonder  what  is  the  matter. 
Since  I  left  Alexandria,  a  month  ago  yesterday,  I  have 
not  had  a  single  letter  from  America.  The  mails  keep 
coming,  and  everybody  else  gets  lots,  but  there  is 
nothing  for  me.  I  have  put  off  writing  from  day  to 
day,  because  it  is  rather  pleasanter  to  write  when  one 
has  a  letter  to  answer,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  use  in 
waiting  any  longer.  I  am  afraid  my  letters  must 
have  been  sent  by  mistake  to  Alexandria,  and  it  will 
be  some  time  yet  before  I  get  them. 

I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  have  enjoyed  these 
two  weeks  in  Rome.  Every  moment  of  them  has  been 
busy,  and  I  know  the  old  city  pretty  well.  I  have  ex- 
plored it  from  end  to  end,  above  ground  and  under 
ground,  the  churches,  ruins,  picture  galleries,  the  Vati- 
can, the   Campagna,  everything.     The   first  week  of 


90  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

my  stay  here  was  the  Carnival,  and  the  town  was 
crowded  with  strangers.  Since  Lent  began  they  have 
largely  gone  off  to  Naples,  and  left  a  little  room,  so 
that  one  can  climb  up  to  the  Coliseum,  or  go  through 
a  picture  gallery,  without  being  in  a  jam  of  folks  so 
great  as  to  take  away  half  the  pleasure  of  the  thing. 

I  am  going  off  this  week  for  a  while.  I  start  on 
Friday  for  Naples  and  Messina,  whence  I  shall  sail 
next  Tuesday  for  Athens ;  and  after  spending  eight 
days  there  shall  return  to  Rome,  getting  back  here 
about  the  13th  of  March.  Then  I  shall  have  two  or 
three  weeks  here  before  Easter,  immediately  after 
which  I  shall  leave  for  a  month  in  northern  Italy,  and 
go  to  Paris  about  the  first  of  May.  I  am  depending 
much  on  seeing  Greece,  though  I  am  afraid  I  can  visit 
little  besides  Athens,  for  the  countiy  seems  to  be  in 
such  a  state  now  with  the  brigands  that  it  is  not  safe  to 
go  far  away  from  the  town.  I  am  to  meet  Mr.  Apple- 
ton  in  Naples,  and  he  will  go  with  me. 

I  have  met  a  great  many  people  here  whom  I  know. 
Two  or  three  families  of  parishioners  from  Philadel- 
phia, a  great  many  Boston  people,  and  many  whom  I 
have  come  across  in  traveling.  Almost  everybody 
who  is  traveling  in  Europe  comes  to  Rome  in  the 
spring.  There  are  also  a  great  many  very  pleasant 
American  families  living  here  permanently.  I  have 
seen  a  great  deal  of  the  Storys,  and  like  them  exceed- 
ingly. Yesterday  I  spent  with  them,  in  an  out  of 
town  excursion  to  one  of  the  old  villas,  which  was  as 
beautiful  as  antiquity  and  springtime  could  make  it. 
We  had  a  capital  time.  Miss  Shaw,  sister  of  Colonel 
Shaw  of  Fort  Wagner,  is  staying  with  the  Storys, 
and  is  very  charming.  They  have  pleasant  receptions, 
where  one  meets  the  nicest  people  in  Rome,  particu- 


ROME.  91 

larly  the  artists.  Story  is  at  work  on  a  colossal 
Everett  for  the  city  of  Boston.  Edward  does  n't  look 
very  imposing  just  now,  for  he  has  only  got  one 
trouser  on,  and  is  very  much  in  the  condition  of 
"Diddle,  diddle,  dumpling,  my  son  John."  It  is 
going  to  be  a  fine  thing.  Mr.  Story  has  also  a  fine 
statue  of  Colonel  Shaw,  and  Rogers  has  a  capital  bust 
of  Lincoln.  I  dined  the  other  day  with  Mr.  Hooker. 
Charles  Adams  and  his  wife  have  just  arrived,  and 
other  people  keep  turning  up.  Next  Friday,  the 
22d,  there  is  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  Americans  here, 
with  a  breakfast.  I  believe  I  am  committed  for 
a  little  speech.  Won't  it  be  funny  to  make  a  Hail 
Columbia  address  in  Rome  ?  There  are  lots  of  cop- 
perheads here,  and  there  will  be  much  pleasure  in 
saying  a  few  words  to  them.  The  Rev.  Charles 
T.  Brooks  is  here,  and  is  to  read  a  poem. 

Tuesday  Evening,  February  20. 

At  last  I  have  heard  a  little  from  you  to-day.  I 
have  yours  and  mother's  of  January  2,  and  William's 
of  January  8.  You  may  be  sure  they  are  very 
welcome.  They  have  been  to  Alexandria  and  back. 
I  am  glad  to  hear  you  are  all  well,  and  I  thank  you 
for  your  New  Year's  wishes.  How  I  wish  you  could 
see  and  feel  the  spring  here  !  It  is  delicious,  and 
every  day  now  adds  to  its  beauty.  What  a  winter 
you  have  had  at  home !  I  feel  as  if  I  had  skipped  win- 
ter altogether.  I  have  not  set  foot  in  snow  once; 
but  I  must  stop.  I  want  to  put  a  choice  collection  of 
stamps  for  Mr.  John  into  my  letter.  I  am  very  well, 
and  shall  be  glad  when  I  see  you  all  again.  Good-by, 
love  to  all. 

Phillips. 


92  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Messina,  Monday,  February  26,  1866. 

Now,  my  dear  James,^  we  will  have  that  little  talk 
which  we  have  been  meaning  to  have  so  long.  It  is  a 
whole  month,  I  believe,  since  I  received  your  letter. 
Why  have  n't  I  answered  it?  Simply  because,  my 
dear  boy,  I  have  been  in  Rome,  and  who  can  write 
letters  there  ?  I  have  had  to  be  content  with  know- 
ing that  I  was  thinking  about  you,  and  that  you 
knew  I  was  thinking  about  you,  and  promising  my- 
self to  write  as  soon  as  I  got  to  some  less  absorbing 
place.  So  here  I  am,  waiting  for  the  steamer  that  is 
coming  to  take  me  to  Athens.  I  have  leaned  out  of 
my  window  in  this  Hotel  Trinacria,  and  looked  away 
up  the  straits  towards  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  there 
is  no  sign  that  she  is  coming  yet ;  so  I  am  sure  of  time 
for  a  good  long  talk  with  you.  It  was  good  to  read 
your  letter,  and  to  hear  for  the  first  time  your  talks 
as  a  theological  student.  It  was  so  far  an  a<?com- 
plishment  of  the  purposes  and  hopes  of  these  last  two 
years ;  it  is  an  assurance  of  so  much  done,  and  so  is 
a  pleasant  starting-point  for  the  next  stage.  It  is  n't 
easy  to  run,  for  Hebrew  Dictionary  and  Jahns  and 
Homes  are  not  light  loads  to  carry;  but  the  very 
getting  at  it  is  a  sort  of  inspiration,  and  I  am  sure 
the  same  Help  that  has  brought  you  up  to  it  will 
carry  you  bravely  through.     God  bless  you  in  it. 

That  is  all  I  am  going  to  say  about  your  studies.  I 
say  it  with  all  my  heart,  you  know.  I  am  not  going 
to  write  you  "  a  page  about  homiletics "  or  anything 
of  the  sort.  I  am  too  desirous  to  have  my  letters 
read  for  that.  If  you  want  suggestions  in  detail, 
have  n't  you  got  Fred,  and  can't  he  give  them  to  you 
a  great  deal  better  than  I  can,  way  off  here?     I  am 

^  Rev.  James  P.  Franks. 


MESSINA.  93 

sure  you  are  not   going  to  disappoint  any  of  us,  but 
more  than  fulfill  all  that  we  hope  of  you. 

How  have  you  and  that  same  Fred  got  along  this 
winter?  From  what  I  hear  of  the  bitter  cold,  you 
must  have  been  very  affectionate  to  keep  each  other 
warm.  How  different  our  winters  have  been.  Mine 
has  been  full  of  fruit  trees  in  full  fruit,  and  hot, 
sunny  days ;  while  yours  has  had  skates,  snow-storms, 
and  all  that.  Yours  is  a  great  deal  the  best  for  a 
steady  thing,  but  mine  has  been  a  very  enjoyable 
luxury  for  this  once.  My  last  three  weeks  have  been 
completely  given  up  to  Eome.  Did  I  ever  tell  you 
that  it  was  the  one  place  in  Europe  that  I  was  most 
anxious  to  see  perfectly  and  know  through  and 
through?  I  believe  I  do  know  it  well,  and  I  shall 
have  three  weeks  more  to  revel  in  it,  when  I  get  back 
from  Greece.  Do  you  remember  the  photograph  of 
the  old  city  that  hung  over  my  bookcase  in  Bpruce 
Street  ?  How  many  times  I  have  studied  and  tried  to 
understand  it.  Now  ask  me  any  house  in  it  and  see 
if  I  do  not  tell  you.  From  the  first  walk  down  to 
the  Coliseum  before  breakfast,  the  morning  after  I 
arrived,  down  to  my  last  view  of  the  crippled  old 
aqueduct  striding  across  the  Campagna  as  I  rode 
out  to  Naples,  it  was  an  unceasing  and  infinite  delight. 
There  are  a  great  many  pleasant  people  there,  too, 
some  of  whom  I  knew  at  home,  and  many  whom  I 
learned  to  know  well  there.  We  had  a  very  patriotic 
time  on  the  2  2d  of  February,  and  stirred  up  the  dusty 
old  air  with  national  melodies  of  which  the  Caesars 
never  heard,  and  talked  about  loyalty  and  liberty, 
which  they  would  not  have  appreciated  if  they  had. 
Then  there  was  Naples,  just  as  bright,  sunny,  and  gay 
as   Rome   is   grim.     The  one  is  always  solemn  and 


94  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

stately,  even  when  it  is  dressed  in  carnival  scarlet. 
The  other  is  always  on  the  broad  grin,  and  dancing 
like  a  faun.  They  are  both  perfect  in  their  ways. 
And  now  I  am  going  to  see  what  Athens  is  like,  and 
then  come  Florence,  Venice,  Genoa,  Paris,  and  the 
biggest  and  best  day  of  all,  when  I  see  Boston  again, 
which  is  worth  the  whole  lot  of  them  together,  and  is 
the  best  place  on  the  world's  face  to  live  in.  So  say 
we  all  of  us,  don't  we  ? 

Everything  is  going  well,  and  it  is  pure  good  nature 
in  the  people  to  be  kind  enough  to  miss  me  when  they 
fare  so  well  in  my  absence.  All  this  is  a  great  relief 
to  my  mind,  and  lets  me  go  on  without  an  anxiety, 
adding  pleasure  to  pleasure  while  my  year  lasts. 
Some  time  in  October  will  see  me  back,  if  I  am 
spared.  To  think  that  before  I  come  Fred  will  have 
been  ordained  and  will  be  at  his  work !  Where  will 
it  be  ?  I  should  so  like  to  have  had  a  glimpse  of  you 
together  in  your  household  life  this  winter.  How 
much  you  must  have  enjoyed  it,  and  how  much  you 
both  owe  to  me  for  making  you  know  one  another ! 

Give  my  kindest  regards  to  your  mother  and  sister, 
and  to  my  other  friends  in  Philadelphia.  As  to  old 
Fred,  tell  him  I  love  him  still,  and  ask  him  to  write 
oftener,  and  I  will  pay  him  when  he  goes  to  Europe. 

And  now,  my  dear  boy,  good-by  and  God  bless  you. 
I  think  of  you  lots  ;  you  may  make  ever  so  many 
friends  without  having  one  that  will  like  you  better, 
or  wish  you  every  blessing  more  fervently  than  your 
old  friend,  P.  B. 


STEAMER  GODAVERY.  95 

Stea-mer  Godavery,  between  Messina  and  Athens, 
Tuesday,  February  27,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  Here  I  am  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean again.  Coming  down  from  Rome  to  Athens, 
I  crossed  by  steamer  to  Messina,  and  last  night  our 
old  friend  the  Godavery,  in  which  three  months  ago 
we  sailed  from  Smyrna  to  Beyrout,  took  us  up  and  is 
carrying  us  fast  towards  Athens.  Appleton  came 
from  Paris,  and  joined  me  at  Naples.  We  shall  be 
there  probably  early  on  Thursday  morning.  It  seems 
like  getting  back  to  last  winter's  experiences.  The 
boat  is  full  of  Greeks,  French,  Germans,  and  what 
not.  The  familiar  cabins  recall  the  days  when 
we  were  getting  ready  to  plunge  into  Syria,  wondering 
what  kind  of  a  time  we  should  have  there.  The  Med- 
iterranean is  as  beautiful  as  ever.  To-day  is  a  soft, 
clear,  warm,  blue  day,  when  one  just  likes  to  sit  on 
deck  and  think  what  a  lovely  thing  the  sea  is.  Indeed, 
I  have  found  this  treacherous  sea  all  winter  one  of  the 
gentlest,  most  gracious,  and  best  behaved  of  creatures. 

This  sea  life  of  a  day  or  two  is  quite  a  rest  after 
Rome  with  its  intense  and  constant  interest.  I  cannot 
teU  you  how  I  enjoyed  that  city.  I  had  hoped  much 
from  it,  but  my  enjoyment  far  surpassed  all  my  antici- 
pations. It  has  more  than  any  other  city  of  those 
things  which,  once  seen,  become  pictures  to  you  for- 
ever. St.  Peter's  so  vast  and  so  beautiful,  the  Vatican 
with  its  labyrinth  of  art,  the  Coliseum  and  the  Forum 
with  the  beauty  of  their  ruin,  —  one  doesn't  know 
where  to  begin  to  think  about  what  there  is  in  Rome. 
I  paid  your  old  High  School  eloquence  the  tribute  of 
a  thought,  as  I  looked  at  the  ruins  of  Horatius  Codes' 
bridge,  and  at  the  place  in  the  Forum  where 

*'  Virginius  caught  the  whittle  up  and  hid  it  in  his  gown." 


96  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Some  day,  if  you  care  about  it,  I  will  get  out  the  map 
of  Rome,  and  we  will  go  over  it  and  spell  out  the  his- 
tories that  are  written  there,  one  over  the  other.  The 
mere  art  of  Rome  is  infinite.  Think  of  a  city  that 
has  the  Dying  Gladiator,  and  the  Apollo  Belvedere, 
and  what  is  called  the  greatest  picture  of  the  world, 
Raphael's  Transfiguration.  Do  you  remember  seeing 
it  for  years  in  the  copy  in  St.  Paul's  chancel?  I 
thought  it  a  wonderful  picture  when  I  saw  the  original 
in  the  Vatican ;  I  cannot  think  it  so  gi-eat  a  picture 
as  the  Dresden  Madonna,  but  the  comparison  of  great 
pictures  is  very  unsatisfactory  and  odious.  A  mere 
list  of  the  other  pictures  of  Rome  that  fill  you  with 
their  power  or  beauty  would  crowd  my  paper.  Of  the 
people  in  Rome  I  saw  many,  some  very  pleasant.  At 
the  Stoiys'  house,  I  met  several  of  the  best  artists, 
and  other  interesting  folks.  I  saw  Miss  Hosmer,  Miss 
Stebbins,  and  Miss  Cuslunan,  three  ladies  of  genius, 
you  know,  and  very  pleasant  personally.  Our  22d 
of  February  went  off  well.  President  King,  of  New 
York,  presided,  and  his  son,  our  minister  in  Rome, 
General  King,  Mr.  Story,  General  Bartlett,  and  I 
spoke,  and  R«v.  C.  T.  Brooks,  of  Newport,  read  a 
poem.  We  were  very  patriotic,  and  an  Italian  band 
played  our  national  airs  well. 

I  am  very  much  disappointed  about  my  letters  ;  there 
IS  a  mistake  about  them  somewhere.  I  received  none 
before  leaving  Rome,  except  those  that  had  been  all 
the  way  round  by  Alexandria.  The  latest  was  yours 
of  January  8.  Now  I  shall  get  no  more  till  I  reach 
Rome  again,  which  will  not  be  till  about  the  14th  of 
March.  Then  I  shall  expect  a  big  bundle.  I  don't 
know  what  the  hitch  is,  but  take  it  for  granted  that  it 
will  regulate  itseK  by  that  time. 


ATHENS.  97 

Hotel  d'Angleterre,  Athens, 
Thursday  Evening. 

I  am  here  on  the  'OSos  AtoXov,  as  the  street  signs  call 
it,  which  means  -^olus  Street.  I  go  out  on  my  balcony 
and  look  one  way,  and  there  is  the  Temple  of  the  Winds 
and  the  Acropolis  beyond,  with  the  Parthenon  glow- 
ing in  the  sunset.  I  look  the  other  way,  and  see  the 
Academy  and  the  old  grove  where  Plato  taught  his 
pupils.  In  front  is  the  Piraeus  and  the  Saronic  GuK, 
with  Salamis  in  the  distance.  Two  hours  ago  I  was 
on  Mars  Hill,  where  Paul  made  his  address ;  the  old 
stones  of  the  Judgment  Seat  are  still  standing  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs  that  lead  up  from  the  Agora. 
Then  I  went  over  to  the  Pnyx  and  stood  where 
Demosthenes  and  Pericles  have  so  often  spoken  to  the 
Athenians  of  old.  Before  me  was  the  Temple  of 
Theseus,  the  most  perfect  of  all  relics  of  antiquity. 

Friday  Evening,  March  2. 

Here  my  letter  came  to  grief  yesterday,  owing  to 
the  dinner  bell.  I  spent  the  evening  very  pleasantly 
at  Dr.  Hill's.  You  know  he  is  our  missionary  here, 
and  the  man  who  has  done  more  than  anybody  else 
for  the  elevation  of  Greece,  by  means  of  education. 

He  told  me  a  great  deal  about  Greece  that  was  in- 
teresting. To-day  I  have  been  on  a  very  delightful 
ride  from  Athens  through  the  Pass  of  Daphne,  along 
the  Thriasian  Plain  to  Eleusis,  the  place  where  the 
old  mysteries,  the  most  sacred  religious  rites  of 
ancient  times,  were  celebrated.  It  is  a  very  beauti- 
ful spot,  in  full  view  of  the  Bay  of  Salamis,  where 
the  great  battle  of  the  Greeks  and  Persians  was 
fought,  and  of  the  height  where  Xerxes  sat  and  over- 
looked it.  Coming  back,  I  went  to  the  Acropolis 
again,    wandering    around    to   see    its   beauty   from 


98  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

every  point  of  view.  The  whole  sweep  of  the  land- 
scape is  glorious :  Hymettus,  Pentelicus,  Colonus  sur- 
rounding the  beautiful  plain ;  the  Ilissus  and  Cephi- 
sus,  the  two  classic  rivers  of  Athens,  now  mere  dry 
torrent  beds,  running  through  it,  and  the  Acropolis, 
with  its  immortal  temples  standing  up,  the  central 
gem  of  the  whole. 

Many  things  are  odd  in  traveling  here.  First,  we 
are  twelve  days  behind  time.  You  know  the  East 
has  never  adopted  the  change  of  calendar,  so  that 
leaving  Messina  on  the  27th  we  arrived  here  on  the 
17th.  To-day  is  the  19th  of  February  on  all  their 
newspapers,  so  for  the  present,  I  am  twelve  days 
younger  than  you  think.  Then  it  is  curious  to  hear 
everybody,  the  cabmen,  shopkeepers,  beggars,  talking 
familiarly  a  language  that  we  have  called  dead,  and 
struggled  so  hard  to  learn  years  ago.  The  modern 
Greek  is  very  like  the  old,  and  eliminating  differences 
of  pronunciation,  one  gets  to  understand  it  a  little  and 
say  a  word  or  two  so  as  to  be  intelligible.  The  modem 
city  is  all  very  new,  and  far  better,  neater,  and  cleaner 
than  any  other  Eastern  city.  On  the  whole,  these  have 
been  two  great  days.  Yesterday,  my  first  in  Athens, 
was  one  of  the  most  memorable  of  all  my  journey. 

Saturday  Morning,  March  3. 

I  find  there  is  a  mail  leaving  to-day  by  the  Austrian 
steamer,  so  I  will  close  this  up  hurriedly  and  send  it. 
We  are  going  on  Monday  for  a  little  trip  into  the 
Peloponnesus,  to  Argos,  Mycsene,  and  Corinth.  In 
about  ten  days  I  shall  be  back  in  Rome,  and  stay  there 
till  after  Easter.  To-morrow  I  am  going  to  preach  in 
St.  Paul's  Church,  Athens,  for  Dr.  HiU.  Lots  of  love 
to  all ;  I  am  very  well.  Affectionately, 

Phiu.. 


ROME.  99 

Rome,  Saturday,  March  24,  1866. 

Dear  Father,  —  Since  I  came  back  to  Rome,  I 
have  been  so  continually  busy  tbat  it  has  been  not  an 
easy  thing  to  get  time  to  write.  I  beg  your  pardon 
very  humbly.  Now  I  will  tell  you  a  little  of  the 
much  that  I  have  done  and  seen  since  I  wrote  an 
enormous  letter  to  Arthur  from  Athens,  which  was 
mailed  at  Naples.  One  of  the  best  things  was  to  get 
an  immense  pile  of  letters  when  I  arrived  here.  All 
the  accumulation  of  two  months  reached  me  at  once, 
and  I  have  had  a  great  treat  in  reading  them.  I 
heard  of  your  reception  of  all  my  letters  from 
Damascus  to  Naples,  and  you  and  mother,  William, 
Fred,  Arthur,  and  John,  with  others  outside  the 
family  circle,  contributed  to  my  delight. 

We  had  a  rather  rough  passage  from  Athens  to 
Messina,  and  then  from  Messina  over  to  Naples.  I  am 
a  very  good  sailor  by  this  time,  but  still  I  am  not 
sorry  to  think  that  I  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  sea, 
except  in  crossing  the  Channel,  until  I  sail  for  home. 
I  did  not  stay  in  Naples,  but  came  right  on  here. 

Since  my  return,  the  climate  of  Rome  has  been 
bad,  sort  of  New  England  April  weather,  some  rain 
almost  every  day.  But  the  country  is  looking  beauti- 
ful, and  when  we  have  fine  weather  it  is  splendid  to 
go  about;  for  rainy  days,  we  have  the  Vatican,  the 
Capitol,  and  a  dozen  other  galleries.  One  day  this 
week  I  have  spent  at  Tivoli,  another  in  the  Alban 
Hills,  Frascati,  Tusculum,  and  Albano.  The  country 
and  people  are  very  interesting  indeed. 

Rome  has  got  to  be  just  like  home  to  me  now.  I 
know  it  through  and  through,  and  after  so  much 
wandering,  my  stay  here  has  been  a  very  pleasant 
change.     I   have   made  a  good  many  acquaintances 


100  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

among  our  resident  artists  and  the  travelers.  The 
Storys,  Crawfords,  Tiltons,  Miss  Cushman,  Miss  Steb- 
bins,  and  Miss  Foley,  all  of  them  I  have  seen  a  good 
deal  of,  and  like.  To-day,  I  am  to  dine  with  Mr. 
Mozier,  one  of  our  best  sculptors  here.  I  have  been 
quite  interested  in  visiting  the  studio  of  a  colored  art- 
ist. Miss  Lewis,  of  Boston,  who  has  recently  come 
here,  and  promises  very  well  indeed  in  sculpture. 

Of  travelers  there  are  many ;  Rome  is  crowded,  so 
that  it  is  impossible  to  get  a  room.  Many  Philadel- 
phians  are  here.  Also  the  Morrills,  Mr.  Gardner 
Brewer,  and  Mr.  Wales,  of  Boston  ;  this  is  all  very  nice. 

Next  week  is  Holy  Week,  with  all  its  great  church 
pageants,  closing  with  the  splendid  fireworks  on 
Easter-Monday  night.  On  Tuesday,  I  shall  leave, 
and  go  by  way  of  Foligno  and  Perugia  to  Florence ; 
then  to  Bologna,  Parma,  Modena,  Ferrara,  Padua, 
and  Venice.  Then  to  Verona,  Milan,  the  Italian 
lakes,  Turin,  Genoa,  Nice,  Marseilles,  Lyons,  and 
Paris.  Does  n't  that  sound  good  ?  I  am  depending 
much  on  Florence  and  Venice,  and  indeed  all  the 
route  is  very  rich. 

I  am  sick  at  heart  about  Johnson's  performance ;  it 
was  my  first  greeting  when  I  got  back  to  Rome,  and 
was  very  depressing.  It  seems  as  if  we  had  a  narrow, 
vulgar-minded  man  upon  our  hands,  and  must  take 
all  the  delay  and  suffering  that  he  chooses  to  put  upon 
the  country.  Of  course,  we  shall  come  out  all  right 
at  last,  but  it  is  very  disheartening  to  come  up  short 
against  such  an  obstacle. 

I  hear  talk  about  quarantine  in  America  this 
summer.  Would  n't  it  be  nice  to  spend  thirty  days  at 
Deer  Island  on  my  way  home?  They  seem  to  be 
expecting  the  cholera  everywhere,  both  here  and  at 
home. 


ROME.  :  :  s  ;  ^'   ;      IW  . 

Tell  Arthur  and   John  I  was  set  up  to  get  their 
letters.     I  had  already  written  to  Ayojuir.^  >  'My  i>^xJ^>, ; 
will  be  to  Mr.  John.     Forgive  this  poor  letter.    .    .    . 

Phillips. 

Rome,  March  30,  1866. 

Dear  Jack,  —  I  will  tell  you  where  I  am  and  what 
I  am  doing.  I  am  up  in  the  fifth  story  of  the  Wash- 
ington Hotel,  that 's  the  where ;  and  I  am  seeing  the 
sights  of  Holy  Week  at  Rome,  that 's  the  what.  They 
began  last  Sunday  with  the  great  blessing  of  the 
palms  at  St.  Peter's.  It  was  a  gorgeous  service,  with 
very  splendid  music.  You  have  to  dress  for  it,  as  if 
you  were  going  to  a  party.  Nobody  without  a  dress 
coat  is  admitted  into  any  place  where  you  can  see 
anything.  Then  yesterday  (Thursday)  was  one  of 
their  great  days.  In  the  morning,  his  Holiness 
washed  the  feet  of  twelve  priests,  who  stood  for  the 
Apostles,  in  St.  Peter's,  and  waited  on  them  at  table. 
It  was  a  very  odd  and  ugly  sight.  A  tremendous 
crowd  was  there,  and  it  was  as  perfectly  devoid  of 
anything  religious  or  impressive  as  it  was  possible  to 
conceive.  Then  the  Pope  came  out  on  the  great  bal- 
cony in  front  of  the  church  and  pronounced  his  bene- 
diction. That  was  one  of  the  grandest  sights  I  ever 
saw,  —  the  whole  vast  piazza  crowded,  and  the  clear 
voice  of  the  old  man  ringing  out  his  blessing  so  that 
every  one  could  hear.  In  the  afternoon,  I  heard  the 
famous  Miserere  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  and  whatever 
else  may  be  humbug  about  this  strange  week  here,  that 
was  certainly  the  most  wonderful  music  I  ever  listened 
to.  Now,  everybody  is  looking  forward  to  Easter 
Sunday,  when  the  whole  will  crown  itself  with  a 
splendid  service  in  the  morning,  and  the  great  illumi- 


102      ,  FFRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

nation  of  St.  Peter's  dome  at  night.  There  is  much 
^ih^i  is  very  interesting  about  it,  but  still  it  is  good 
every  day  to  get  away  for  a  while,  and  wander  off 
into  the  ruins ;  to  go  down  the  Corso,  and  climb  up 
among  the  nests  of  crooked  streets  at  its  foot,  till  you 
come  out  on  the  Capitol ;  then  go  down  through  the 
Forum,  and  under  the  Arch  of  Titus  to  the  Coliseum ; 
by  the  Arch  of  Constantine  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla, 
the  finest  old  bit  in  Rome,  and  out  the  Appian  Way 
till  you  get  beyond  the  gates  on  the  Campagna,  among 
the  aqueducts  and  tombs.  Last  night,  I  was  going 
with  some  folks  to  see  the  Coliseum  by  moonlight,  but 
it  was  cloudy  and  we  gave  it  up ;  about  eleven  o'clock 
I  happened  to  look  out,  and  found  it  was  clearing 
and  the  clouds  breaking  away,  so  I  started  off  alone, 
and  went  down  and  had  it  all  to  myself.  Not  even 
a  guide  was  there.  I  climbed  over  a  gate  to  get  in, 
and  wandered  all  over  it,  with  the  most  splendid  moon 
pouring  down  and  lighting  up  the  city  on  one  side, 
and  the  Campagna  and  the  Alban  Hills  upon  the 
other.  It  was  a  great  treat  to  sit  there  and  watch  it. 
I  wish  you  had  n't  been  asleep,  and  could  have  gone 
with  me. 

I  am  just  getting  ready  to  leave  Rome,  and  am 
dreadfully  sorry  to  go  away.  I  have  seen  everything, 
but  want  to  keep  seeing  it  over  again.  When  you 
paint  your  future,  don't  forget  to  put  your  brightest 
colors  on  the  days  that  you  are  to  spend  in  Rome. 
Perhaps  I  may  be  ready  to  come  again  by  the  time 
you  set  out. 

We  find  time,  even  here  in  Rome,  to  talk  about 
home,  and  especially  about  the  President  and  his 
veto.  I  am  glad  to  say  people  generally  agree  with 
you  and  me,  and  agree  with  us  vigorously,  too.     The 


FLORENCE.  103 

patriotism  and  home  interest  of  the  best  sort  of 
Americans  seem  to  be  stronger  here  than  ever.  It 
certainly  is  a  great  shame  that  such  a  man  should 
block  our  wheels  and  keep  peace  waiting,  under  the 
pretense  of  hastening  it ;  but  he  can  only  delay  things, 
not  spoil  them.  To-day  is  Good  Friday,  just  a  year 
ecclesiastically  from  the  death  of  Lincoln,  and  the 
real  beginning  of  things  going  v/rong.  By  the  way, 
why  is  there  no  commission  yet  for  a  great  statue 
of  Lincoln  for  Boston  ?  Mr.  Story  showed  me  his 
Everett  yesterday.  It  is  very  fine,  a  colossal  figure 
in  plain  citizen's  dress,  in  the  act  of  speaking,  the 
right  arm  raised  in  Mr.  Everett's  favorite  gesture,  the 
whole  very  bold  and  simple,  and  successful,  I  think. 

I  send  some  more  rare  post-office  stamps,  all  I  can 
get  now.  Are  there  any  you  want  especially  ?  Let 
me  know,  and  I  will  try.  Good-by,  and  be  a  good 
boy,  and  write  to  me. 

Your  loving  brother,  Phillips. 

Florence,  Hotel  de  l'  Arno, 
April  8,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  Here  I  am  in  my  third  day 
at  Florence.  Before  I  begin  to  rave  about  the  city,  I 
will  tell  you  how  I  came  here.  When  I  wrote  to 
John,  I  was  in  the  midst  of  Holy  Week  at  Rome. 
Many  of  its  services,  such  as  the  washing  of  feet 
and  tending  on  table  by  the  Pope,  were  disagree- 
able and  fatiguing.  But  three  things  stand  out  in 
my  recollection  as  very  fine  and  impressive.  One 
was  the  Miserere  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  on  Thursday 
evening,  by  far  the  most  sublime  and  affecting  sacred 
music  I  ever  heard.  The  dim  chapel,  dusky  old  fres- 
coes, and  splendid  presence  joined  with  the  wonderful 


104  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

music  to  make  it  very  impressive.  Then  the  great  Papal 
Benediction  on  Easter  Day  at  noon,  from  the  balcony 
of  St.  Peter's,  the  vast  piazza  crowded  full,  the  peas- 
ants from  all  the  surrounding  country  in  their  strange 
dresses,  the  gorgeous  background  of  soldiery,  the  per- 
fect stillness,  and  the  voice  of  the  old  man  ringing  out 
his  blessing  over  them  all.  It  was  one  of  the  sights 
of  a  lifetime.  Third,  the  illumination  of  St.  Peter's 
at  night  was  magnificent.  Every  line  of  the  majestic 
dome  bursting  out  in  fire,  the  whole  standing  as  if  it 
were  the  fiery  dome  that  Michael  Angelo  conceived 
and  tried  to  build. 

Besides  these,  the  moment  in  the  Easter  service  was 
very  solemn  when  the  Host  was  elevated,  the  silver 
trumpets  sounded  in  the  dome,  and  the  whole  vast 
audience  fell  on  their  knees.  Romanism  certainly 
succeeds  in  being  very  striking  in  some  of  its  demon- 
strations. Unfortunately,  Easter  Monday  was  a  windy 
day,  and  the  great  fireworks  had  to  be  put  off,  so  that 
I  did  not  see  them. 

It  was  hard  to  leave  dear  old  Rome ;  I  had  learned 
to  love  it,  and  hated  to  go  away.  My  six  weeks  there 
will  always  be  a  treasure  to  me.  I  know  it  through 
and  through,  but  it  makes  me  sorry  to  think  that  I 
shaU  never  see  it  again.  I  left  on  Tuesday  morning 
by  rail  for  Terni,  where  I  stopped  over  night  and  went 
to  see  the  famous  falls.  They  are  made  falls,  but  very 
beautiful,  with  more  variety  of  surface  and  effect,  I 
think,  than  any  cataract  I  know.  Wednesday  by  rail 
to  Foligno,  and  thence  by  Vittoria  to  Perugia,  stopping 
at  Assisi,  where  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  old 
churches  of  all  Italy,  built  in  honor  of  St.  Francis, 
who  was  hermit  here.  It  is  rich  in  the  pictures  of 
Cimabue  and  Giotto,  the  first  of  modern  painters,^ 
founders  of  modern  painting. 


FLORENCE.  105 

Perugia  is  a  dear  old  town,  full  of  the  pictures  of 
Perugino,  Raphael's  master.  Thursday  by  Vittoria 
and  rail  to  Florence,  passing  lake  Trasimeno,  where 
Hannibal  gave  the  Romans  such  a  whipping.  Of 
Florence  I  cannot  speak  yet,  though  I  have  had  two 
great  days  here.  Think  of  one  room  in  the  Uffizi 
Palace  containing  the  Venus  de  Medici  (I  don't  like 
her,  she  is  too  little,  physically,  morally,  and  mentally), 
three  Raphaels,  two  Titians,  one  Michael  Angelo,  and 
lots  besides,  and  that  will  give  you,  when  you  multiply 
it  by  fifty  or  a  hundred,  some  idea  of  what  is  waiting 
for  you  to  see  here  at  Florence.  Go  to  the  Athenaeum 
and  look  at  Michael  Angelo's  Night  and  Morning. 
They  are  here  in  solemn  marble,  over  the  Medicis' 
tomb  in  St.  Lorenzo  church.  Yesterday  I  went  up  to 
Fiesole,  and  looked  down  on  this  perfect  valley  with 
its  beautiful  town,  and  this  morning  I  climbed  to  the 
top  of  Giotto's  Campanile  in  the  great  cathedral 
square,  and  saw  the  city  from  there.  To-morrow  I  am 
going  down  to  Pisa  to  see  if  that  tower  really  leans,  as 
Woodbridge's  Geography  said,  and  after  spending  the 
week  here,  I  shall  be  off  for  Bologna  and  Venice.  I 
wonder  sometimes  that  one  does  not  tire  of  the  very 
excess  of  interest  and  beauty,  but  the  constant  change 
is  a  constant  impulse,  and  I  am  fresher  for  enjoying 
things  to-day  than  I  was  when  I  first  set  foot  at 
Queenstown. 

On  arriving  here,  I  found  yours  of  March  20 ;  it 
seems  as  if  I  were  almost  at  home  to  get  such  recent 
dates.  Now  I  shall  hear  regularly  every  week.  Four 
weeks  from  to-day  I  shall  be  in  Paris.  By  the  way, 
where  are  your  commissions  for  the  centre  of  fashions  ? 
What  nimiber  gloves  do  you  wear  ?  I  am  glad  you 
think  I  am  economical.      I  perpetrated  one  or  two 


106  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

extravagances  at  Rome,  a  bronze,  etc.  I  saw  Miss 
Foley  in  Rome  and  liked  her  exceedingly ;  she  gave 
me  some  pretty  photographs  of  some  of  her  things, 
which  you  will  find  with  those  which  I  sent  in  John's 
letter.  I  have  met  friends  here  who  were  large  pur- 
chasers, with  whose  boxes  my  modest  bundles  could 
be  easily  and  cheaply  packed. 

Now,  a  commission  for  you.  I  want  a  copy  of  Mr. 
Sumner's  speech  on  the  Representation  amendment  in 
pamphlet.  I  must  have  it.  If  you  cannot  get  it  any 
other  way,  do  write  to  him  direct,  and  ask  for  it.  I 
am  anxious  to  have  it  for  a  particular  reason.  The 
Freedmen's  Union  have  asked  me  to  go  to  London  to 
the  anniversary  meetings  in  May  to  enlighten  John 
Bull's  Emancipation  League.  .  .  .  Good-by,  I  am 
perfectly  well,  and,  as  you  see,  perfectly  happy. 
Love  to  all.  Affectionately,  Phillips. 


Bologna,  Italy,  Hotel  San  Marco, 
Sunday,  April  15,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  am  spending  a  rainy  Sunday 
at  this  old  town  of  sausages.  I  believe  there  are 
other  things  than  sausages  here,  but  I  don't  know 
anything  about  them  yet,  for  I  only  got  here  late  last 
night,  and  since  I  woke  this  morning  it  has  rained  so 
horribly  that  I  have  n't  been  outside  the  walls  of  the 
hotel.  Since  I  wrote  to  William  last  week,  I  have 
seen  all  of  Florence,  and  been  to  Pisa  and  Sienna.  I 
am  happy  to  report  that  the  tower  at  Pisa  does  really 
lean,  just  the  way  the  picture-books  have  it,  and  you 
have  the  proper  pleasant  feeling  of  insecurity  as  you 
wind  around  it  up  to  the  top.  It  has  stood  crooked 
for  a  good  many  years,  and  my  being  safe  here  to-day 


BOLOGNA.  107 

proves  tliat  it  did  not  tumble  when  I  was  on  it  last 
Monday. 

The  Cathedral  and  Baptistery  at  Pisa  are  both 
very  rich  in  old  art,  and  the  Campo  Santo,  where 
the  monks,  priests,  and  nobles  lie  buried  in  the 
holy  earth  that  was  brought  all  the  way  from  Jeru- 
salem for  them  to  sleep  in,  with  its  frescoed  colon- 
nades around  it,  is  one  of  the  nicest,  quietest  burying 
grounds  in  all  the  world.  Sienna  is  a  charming 
sleepy  old  Italian  town,  with  a  wonderful  cathedral, 
and  a  gallery  of  immensely  old  pictures.  Among 
others,  an  Ecce  Homo  by  an  old  man  called  So- 
doma,  which  I  wish  you  coidd  see.  It  is  almost  the 
most  powerful  and  touching  face  of  Christ  which  I 
have  seen  in  any  picture.  As  to  Florence  itself,  it 
is  the  brightest,  sunniest,  bluest,  most  delightfully 
pretty  place  in  Italy.  The  days  there  were  the 
perfection  of  Italian  weather,  when  everything,  from 
the  hovels  to  the  stars,  seems  to  have  ten  times  as 
much  distinctness  of  color  and  outline  as  it  ever  gets 
at  home.  The  pictures  in  Florence  are  beyond  all 
description  or  calculation.  You  get  bewildered  with 
the  wealth  with  which  Raphaels,  and  Titians,  and  so 
on,  are  scattered  through  the  endless  galleries.  There 
are  hundreds  that  would  be  the  making,  any  one 
of  them,  of  a  gallery  at  home,  and  which  once  seen 
here  seem  to  be  before  your  eyes  all  the  time,  and  not 
to  be  forgotten  forever  afterwards.  The  mornings  I 
generally  spent  in  the  galleries,  and  the  afternoons 
walked  or  rode  off  into  the  country  somewhere  around 
the  town,  to  some  point  where  its  beauty  stood  out  in  a 
splendid  view.  I  shall  remember  my  week  in  Florence 
as  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  all  my  journey.  The  ride 
from  there  here,  across  the  Apennines,  was  very  fine. 


108  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Everybody  in  Europe  now  is  wondering,  you  know, 
whether  there  is  going  to  be  war  between  Austria  and 
Prussia.  If  there  is,  as  seems  likely,  it  is  impossible 
to  say  to  what  extent  it  will  involve  all  the  rest  of 
Europe.  Everything  seems  ready  for  a  general  upset, 
for  there  is  not  one  nation  among  them  that  is  not  in 
some  way  restless  and  uneasy  with  the  present  state 
of  things,  and  prepared  to  welcome  a  general  row  in 
hopes  of  something  better.  The  Old  World  is  very 
rotten,  and  if  President  Johnson  would  only  behave 
himseK  and  stop  vetoing  good  bills,  and  let  the 
United  States  go  on  and  do  her  work,  she  might  lead 
the  imiverse.  What  a  great  misfortune  that  man  is 
to  the  country !  What  have  we  done  to  deserve  him  ? 
Did  we  not  struggle  through  the  war,  and  put  down 
the  Rebellion?  and  now  why  should  the  conquered 
South  be  allowed  to  come  up  and  rule  us  stiU  in  this 
other  form  ?  It  is  very  hard  to  understand.  The  last 
veto,  I  take  it,  is  decisive  as  to  his  spirit  and 
intentions. 

I  had  no  letters  from  you  this  last  week.  They 
have  gone  to  Venice.  By  the  time  you  get  this,  about 
the  first  of  May,  I  shall  be  in  Paris,  and  stay  there 
some  three  weeks.  I  hope  to  meet  Strong  there,  and 
shall  be  very  glad  indeed  to  see  one  so  fresh  from 
home,  who  has  seen  you  all  so  lately.  My  time  is 
drawing  to  its  close,  and,  much  as  I  have  enjoyed 
everything,  I  shall  be  quite  ready  to  come  home.  I 
expect  to  enjoy  Switzerland  immensely.  Mr.  Tilton, 
the  artist,  of  whom  I  saw  a  good  deal  in  Rome,  has 
promised  to  meet  me  there,  and  we  shall  probably 
travel  some  together.  The  Storys  may  be  there,  too. 
So  far,  my  whole  trip  has  been  a  success.  I  could 
not  ask  for  anything  in  it  to  be  changed.     But  here  is 


A  VIGNON.  109 

my  paper  all  gone,  only  room  left  to  say  good-by  and 

lots  of  love  to  everybody,  and  to  be,  in  small  letters, 

Your  affectionate  and  dutiful  son,  Phillips. 

Hotel  de  l'Eukope,  Avignon,  France, 
April  30,  1866. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  believe  it  is  two  weeks  since  I 
have  written  to  any  of  you  at  home,  though  I  wrote 
to  Fred  from  Venice.  My  excuse  must  be  that  these 
have  been  two  of  the  busiest  weeks  of  my  journey- 
ing. Before  I  plunge  into  Paris,  however,  I  will  let 
you  hear  of  me  from  this  queer  old  French  town.  I 
went  from  Venice  to  Verona,  where  I  spent  a  night ; 
a  very  interesting  town,  with  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able Roman  amphitheatres,  in  better  preservation  than 
any  other.  It  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  great  towns, 
too,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  you  know,  and  "  The  Two 
Gentlemen."  The  old  house  of  the  Capulets,  where 
the  pretty  Juliet  lived,  is  still  there.  From  Verona 
to  Brescia,  a  delightful  old  place,  Roman  remains, 
mediaeval  architecture,  and  pictures ;  everywhere  the 
quaintness,  simplicity,  and  unlike-anything-else-ness 
of  modern  Italy.  Few  places  have  given  me  more 
pleasure  than  Brescia.  From  there  to  Milan,  as 
bright,  and  gay,  and  pretty  a  modem  town  as  there  is 
in  the  world.  In  the  midst  of  it  stands  the  wonderful 
cathedral,  that  everybody  knows  all  his  life  in  pictures, 
a  bit  of  most  delicate  and  beautiful  lace  work,  done 
in  white  marble,  a  forest  of  statues  and  elaborate 
carvings,  not  done  yet,  and  not  likely  to  be  finished 
for  many  years  to  come.  There  are  superb  pictures 
in  Milan,  too,  and  the  almost-gone  remains  of  one 
of  the  greatest  pictures  of  the  world,  Leonardo  da 
Vinci's  fresco  of  the  Last  Supper.     Then  to  Turin 


110  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

by  a  splendid  road,  close  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Alps,  with  Monte  Rosa  and  a  hundred  other  white 
peaks  looking  at  you  all  the  way.  Turin  is  a  hand- 
some town,  but  has  not  much  to  be  seen  except  some 
good  pictures.  Then  to  Genoa,  the  city  of  palaces, 
splendid  structures,  with  magnificent  architecture  and 
paintings.  The  whole  situation  of  the  town,  too,  is 
very  striking.  There  I  took  a  steamer  and  sailed  to 
Marseilles.  Good-by  to  Italy,  and  into  the  domains 
of  Napoleon  the  Little ;  red-legged  soldiers  and  big 
gendarmes  everywhere.  Marseilles  is  a  big  city,  but 
not  very  interesting,  and  I  was  soon  off  to  Nimes,  a 
French  town  as  old  as  the  Roman  empire,  and  older. 
It  has  fine  Roman  remains,  another  amphitheatre, 
temples,  etc.  From  there  to  Avignon,  the  place 
where  the  Popes  ran  in  the  fourteenth  century,  when 
they  had  to  clear  out  of  Rome,  and  the  dearest,  French- 
iest  of  old  towns.  The  old  Papal  castle,  a  grim, 
thick-walled  great  affair,  is  now  a  barrack  for  soldiers. 
From  here  I  go  to-morrow  to  Lyons,  and  the  next 
day  to  Paris,  where  you  may  think  of  me  when  you 
get  this.  There  is  this  bit  of  my  biography  which 
you  must  fill  out  with  ever  so  much  enjoyment  every 
day,  and  be  thankful  for,  as  I  am. 

I  received  letters  from  you  at  Venice  to  March  23. 
I  am  depending  much  on  getting  some  more  at  Paris. 
You  are  all  as  good  as  can  be  about  writing.  I  will 
try  to  pay  you  up  when  any  of  you  come  to  Europe. 
Meanwhile,  forgive  my  shortcomings.  I  see  papers 
now  more  frequently  ;  I  am  so  glad  that  Congress  has 
passed  the  Civil  Rights  Bill.  Let  them  go  on  and  do 
their  duty,  firmly,  but  without  passion  or  exaspera^ 
tion,  and  aQ  will  be  well  in  spite  of  Johnson. 

All  Europe  is  wondering  whether  there  is  going  to  be 


PARIS.  Ill 

war.  Italy  was  in  great  excitement,  and  is  longing 
for  Venetia,  which  she  ought  to  have.  My  opinion  is 
not  worth  anything,  for  Bismarck  hasn't  sent  me 
word.     But  I  believe  the  storm  will  blow  over. 

I  expect  to  meet  Strong  in  Paris  in  the  course  of 
a  week.  How  long  our  plans  will  run  together,  I 
cannot  tell  till  we  meet.  Only  four  or  five  months 
more,  and  I  am  with  you.  It  will  be  a  glad  day.  A 
million  thanks  for  all  your  goodness  in  writing.  You 
do  not  know  how  glad  I  am  to  get  letters.  No  end 
of  love  to  you  all.  Phillips. 

Paris,  May  9,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  I  have  been  in  Paris  now  a 
week,  and  a  busy  week  in  Paris  will  let  you  know  a 
good  deal  about  the  city.  I  have  loafed  in  it  from 
one  end  to  the  other,  and  have  seen  the  bigger  part  of 
what  is  worth  seeing  in  the  town  itself.  Under  these 
circumstances,  I  feel  justified  in  deliberately  asserting, 
and  you  may  repeat  it  if  you  wish,  on  my  authority, 
that  Paris  is  considerable  of  a  place.  It  is  a  great 
change  from  most  of  my  other  traveling,  after  Syrian 
tents,  and  Greek  inns,  and  Italians  albergos,  and 
steamboat  berths,  to  settle  quietly  down  in  this  luxu- 
rious hotel,  dine  at  nice  restaurants,  and  walk  all  day 
on  these  bitumen  sidewalks,  which  are  the  luxury  of 
pedestrianism.  I  am  glad  I  came  here  last.  It  is  a 
better  place  to  end  than  to  begin  with. 

Paris,  you  know,  is  almost  a  new  city.  There  is  very 
little  really  ancient  or  mediaeval  left;  even  the  me- 
morials of  its  revolutionary  days  are  hard  to  find. 
Everything  is  splendid  with  the  lavish  outlays  of 
Napoleon  III.  I  saw  him  and  Mrs.  Eugenie  driving 
in  the  Champs  Elysees  the  other  day,  and  the  little 


112  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

prince,  who  is  said  to  be  really  a  very  remarkable  boy, 
I  saw  driving  into  the  Tuileries  on  Sunday.  Paris  is 
full  of  all  sorts  of  people.  Every  day  somebody  turns 
up  that  I  have  known  or  heard  of.  I  like  it  very  well 
for  a  little  while. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  shall  stay  here.  I  have 
some  little  thought  of  going  over  to  London  on  Monday 
to  see  the  very  English  sight  of  the  Derby  Day.  I 
have  also  urgent  letters  from  the  Freedmen's  friends 
there,  who  are  going  to  have  a  public  meeting  some 
time  this  month.  If  I  go,  I  shall  stay  in  England 
about  six  weeks,  and  get  a  week  or  two  more  here  be- 
fore I  go  into  Switzerland. 

Father's  and  mother's  letters  by  the  Asia,  of  April 
25,  turned  up  to-day.  That  seems  like  being  very 
near  home.  Tell  them  not  to  worry  about  the  cholera. 
I  shall  keep  as  clear  as  possible  of  any  places  where  it 
may  show  itseK.  I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  you  are 
all  well  at  home.  Nothing  but  the  war  is  talked  of 
now.  Things  certainly  look  very  belligerent.  I  did 
Venice  just  in  time.  Nobody  is  allowed  to  go  there 
now. 

By  the  way,  our  friend  Mr.  Ward  is  in  London,  and 
one  of  the  active  Freedmen's  men.   .   .    . 

What  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  creature  our  chief 
magistrate  is!  I  always  take  up  a  new  paper  now, 
sure  that  there  will  be  another  of  those  abominable 
vulgar  speeches,  and  they  are  so  weak  and  bad.  If 
they  had  any  strength  in  them,  we  could  stand  their 
vulgarity.  Well,  he  can  last  only  three  years  longer, 
and  meanwhile  everybody  must  work  against  him,  as 
they  did  against  our  other  enemies. 

This  is  not  much  of  a  letter  to  write  from  Paris, 
but  perhaps,  next  week  I  will  give  you  a  stunner  about 


LONDON.  118 

the  Derby  Day.  Paris  you  must  come  and  see  for 
yourself.  It 's  such  an  odd,  splendid  jumble  that  it 
can't  be  written  about  satisfactorily.  However,  I  am 
well  and  happy,  and  you  must  take  that  for  the  burden 
of  this  letter.  Affectionately, 

Phill. 

London,  Albemarle  Hotel, 

May  18,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  write  in  great  haste  this 
morning,  because  I  do  not  want  this  week's  mail  to  go 
without  some  indication  of  me.  I  am  in  London  again 
and  very  well,  that  is  about  all  that  I  have  time  to  say. 
I  left  Paris  behind  me  on  Tuesday  morning,  and 
crossed  the  Channel  by  way  of  Boulogne  and  Folke- 
stone. With  my  usual  luck,  I  had  a  bright,  smooth 
day,  and  none  of  those  disagreeable  scenes  which  are 
often  witnessed  on  board  the  Channel  boats. 

I  found  London  very  full  indeed,  and  only  just  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  room.  Wednesday  I  went  to  the 
Derby  Day.  It  is  one  of  the  great  characteristic  Eng- 
lish sights ;  all  the  city  of  London  shuts  up  shop,  and 
goes  out  twenty  miles  into  the  country  to  Epsom,  to 
see  which  of  two  horses  will  run  the  fastest.  The  ex- 
cited look  of  the  city,  the  stream  of  people  of  aU  ranks 
and  sorts  going  out,  the  hosts  who  cover  the  grounds, 
the  excitement  of  the  race  itself,  and  then  the  return 
to  town  at  night,  let  you  see  one  sort  of  English  life  as 
you  cannot  well  see  it  anywhere  else.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  was  out  there,  and  so  was  I. 

This  is  the  big  thing  that  I  have  done  in  London 
this  week.  Besides  this,  I  have  been  seeing  the  great 
city  over  again,  and  picking  up  new  impressions  of  it. 
When  I  was  here  before,  it  was  deserted ;  now  it  is 


114  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

crowded,  and  every  excitement  and  fashion  is  at  its 
height.  You  cannot  think  how  strange  it  seems  to  get 
back  into  English  ways,  and  in  sound  of  our  own  lan- 
guage. Why,  the  very  boys  in  the  streets  speak  Eng- 
lish !  It  seems  like  getting  very  near  home  again,  and 
if  it  were  not  that  I  am  to  put  off  into  foreign  parts 
again  by  and  by,  I  should  feel  as  if  my  travelings  were 
almost  over.  I  hope  to  stay  in  England  now  till  the 
end  of  next  month.  The  country  is  not  looking  its 
best  yet,  though  it  is  very  beautiful.  It  seems  as  if 
you  could  not  cut  out  a  square  mile  anywhere  from 
this  England  without  getting  a  gem  of  a  garden  or  a 
park. 

About  the  Freedmen's  business,  of  which  I  have 
feared  that  I  should  have  a  good  deal  when  I  reached 
here,  I  think  I  shall  escape  it  almost  altogether.  The 
great  financial  crisis  has  interfered  with  their  plans, 
and  no  meetings  wiU  be  held.  I  am  going  to  a  private 
meeting  of  a  Mr.  Kinnaird,  M.  P.,  this  evening.  .    .    . 

I  caUed  at  the  Adamses  yesterday  and  saw  Mr. 
Adams;  Mrs.  Adams  was  out.  I  shall  see  more  of 
them,  no  doubt,  by  and  by. 

Strong  met  me  in  Paris  and  came  on  to  London, 
and  is  now  with  me.  I  was  delighted  to  see  him  and 
to  hear  about  you  aU. 

Four  months  more  and  I  am  with  you.  Until  that 
happy  day,  I  am  always  affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Albeuarle  Hotel,  Londok,  May  26. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  must  not  let  to-day's  steamer 

go  without  a  line  to  say  that  I  am  well.     I  am  still  in 

London,  though   I  expect   to  leave   for   the  country 

some  time  next  week.     I  have  promised  to  speak  at  a 


LONDON,  115 

meeting  at  Birmingham,  June  12,  that  will  be  my 
only  public  performance  in  England.  Yours  and 
father's  and  Arthur's  reached  me  last  Monday,  and 
were  most  welcome.  Tell  Mr.  Arthur  to  do  it  again, 
if  he  can. 

London  is  full  to  the  brim,  and  the  weather  is 
glorious.  Every  day  has  been  very  busy,  seeing  the 
endless  sights.  One  day  I  went  down  to  Canterbury, 
and  spent  the  whole  day  at  the  cathedral  and  other 
old  buildings  there.  It  is  a  glorious  place ;  next 
week  I  hope  to  get  to  Cambridge,  and  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible to  Oxford. 

Your  cousins  the  Adamses  are  well  and  very  hospi- 
table, and  inquire  all  about  you.  To-day  the  Scotia  is 
in,  and  I  hope  she  has  some  letters  for  me.  She 
brings  news  of  another  veto  of  our  precious  President. 
English  people  think  he  is  a  great  man. 

Strong  is  with  me,  and  will  be,  probably,  most  of 
the  summer.     It  makes  it  very  pleasant. 

It  looks  now  a  little  more  as  if  they  were  going  to 
get  over  the  crisis  in  Europe  without  much  fighting, 
but  a  little  match  may  set  the  whole  pile  of  combustibles 
off  at  any  moment.  This  all  makes  it  more  fortunate 
that  I  came  just  when  I  did,  and  got  through.  No 
cholera  anywhere,  and  don't  worry  about  Switzerland. 
Lots  of  love  to  all.     Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

Univebsity  Arms,  Cambridge, 
May  29,  1866. 

Dear  Fred,^ —  I  am  in  our  Alma  Mater's  Mater. 
There  is  something  charmingly  homelike  and  familiar 
in  old  Cambridge.  Outwardly  unattractive  by  situa- 
tion, but  very  lovely  with  old  Gothic  courts  and  build- 

1  His  brother,  Rev,  Frederick  Brookg. 


116  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

ings,  and  all  the  beauty  of  noble  old  trees,  perfect 
lawns,  and  blossomy  hawthorns.  The  pretty  Cam 
covered  with  college  boats,  the  streets  full  of  college 
faces  and  manners  that  might  have  been  transplanted 
from  the  dear  old  banks  of  the  Charles.  The  students 
seem  to  me  very  like  indeed  to  Harvard  boys,  —  the 
same  average  of  age,  the  same  general  bearing,  the 
same  sort  of  talk.  If  anything  especially  gives  them 
an  advantage  over  us,  it  seems  to  be  in  the  University 
system,  the  grouping  of  colleges  so  as  to  create  a 
friendly  coi-porate  as  well  as  personal  rivalry,  and  the 
presence  among  them  of  older  and  mature  scholars, 
residing  on  fellowships,  etc.,  who  raise  the  scholarly 
standards  of  the  place  higher  than  they  could  be  set 
by  mere  undergraduate  attainment. 

Both  of  these  advantages,  I  think,  are  capable  of 
being  engrafted  on  our  system,  and  if  they  ever  are, 
I  see  no  reason  why,  in  time,  our  greater  freedom  from 
old  prescriptions  and  restraints  should  not  make  our 
University  a  better  place  than  this.  The  beauty  of 
the  college  grounds,  their  homey  seclusion,  and  perfect 
vistas  are  past  desci-ibing.  Oxford,  of  course,  sur- 
passes Cambridge  in  all  this,  but  Cambridge  is  a  con- 
tinual delight. 

I  only  arrived  to-day,  but  hope  to  stay  a  day  or  two, 
and  see  much  more  of  the  University  life.  From  here 
I  am  going  on  a  little  trip  to  Peterborough,  Ely,  Nor- 
wich, and  some  other  towns  in  this  part  of  England. 
It  is  the  season  of  seasons  for  its  beauty.  The 
Phillipses  (this  for  father)  came,  I  believe,  from  Rayn- 
ham  in  Norfolk,  or  near  it.  You  remember  the  ori- 
ginal George,  who  came  over  and  preached  under  a 
tree  in  Watertown,  and  died  of  an  imfortunate  colic. 
Don't  you  ?     Perhaps  I  have  got  them  a  little  mixed 


CAMBRIDGE.  117 

up,  but  all   those   facts  were   among  the   household 
words  of  our  childhood.    .    .    . 

As  to  my  time  in  London,  it  was  very  full,  but  of  a 
lot  of  things  that  you  can  get  from  the  guide-books 
about  as  well  as  from  me.  I  like  London  immensely. 
Last  night  I  spent  at  the  House  of  Commons.  It  was 
one  of  the  great  nights  of  the  Reform  Bill.  By  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Forster,  I  got  admission  to  the  Speak- 
er's gallery.  The  best  men  on  both  sides  spoke :  Glad- 
stone, calm,  cool,  clear,  and  courteous ;  Disraeli,  jerky, 
spiteful,  personal,  very  telling ;  Bright,  honest,  solid, 
indigiiant  with  the  small  trickery  and  meanness  of 
the  opposition ;  Mill,  who  holds  people  by  sheer  power 
of  thought,  as  I  have  hardly  ever  seen  any  man  do ; 
Whiteside,  Grey,  and  others.  The  government  was 
defeated  on  a  side  issue  by  the  manoeuvring  of  the 
opposition,  and  the  weakness  of  some  of  their  own 
men.  As  to  the  look  of  the  House,  it  certainly  sur- 
prises one,  who  has  heard  their  endless  abuse  of  our 
legislative  assemblies,  which  of  course  are  bad  enough. 
There  was  no  such  brutal  outbreak  as  sometimes  dis- 
graces our  noble  representatives,  but  for  constant  and 
bitter  personality,  in  place  of  argument,  for  boisterous 
and  unmannerly  carrying-on  generally,  Washington 
cannot  beat  them.  In  the  middle  of  the  evening,  I 
dined  with  Mr.  Forster  and  Mr.  Bright,  and  had  our 
great  English  friend  pretty  much  to  myself  for  two 
hours.  He  is  a  great  talker,  especially  when  he  gets 
on  to  America,  and  he  knows  what  he  is  talking  about. 
Both  he  and  Forster  are  friends  worth  having.  Bright 
personally  wins  you  in  a  minute  by  the  frankness  and 
cordialness  and  manliness  of  his  greeting.  Hughes, 
I  saw,  but  not  for  any  talk.  The  Reform  Bill,  little 
as  it  attempts,  seems  bound  to  fail. 


118  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

One  word  about  Venice.  If  I  did  not  expatiate,  it 
was  not  because  I  did  not  enjoy  it  immensely.  It  is 
aU  that  your  fancy  ever  painted.  Some  day  I  wiU  tell 
you  about  it. 

Many  thanks  for  your  photograph.  It  is  capital, 
the  very  boy  I  used  to  see,  lazily  stretching  his  length 
in  my  chair  in  Spruce  Street. 

Strong  wants  me  to  remember  him  very  kindly  to 
you.  We  are  having  a  great  time.  The  new  rector 
of  the  Trinity  parish  in  Boston  is  to  join  us  for  Switzer- 
land this  summer.      I  wish  you  were  to  be  the  fourth. 

I  am  to  speak  at  a  breakfast  and  public  meeting  in 
Birmingham  for  the  freedmen.  Probably  I  shall  not 
have  time  to  write  to  Boston  this  week,  so  either  send 
them  this  letter,  or  let  them  know  that  I  am  weU. 

Be  sure  I  shall  think  of  you  ever  so  much  on  your 
ordination  day.     God  bless  you.  Phill. 

Albemarle  Hotel,  London, 
June  8,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  There  will  be  another  very 
short  and  unsatisfactory  letter,  I  am  afraid,  to-night. 
The  fact  is,  I  can  teU  you  about  London  by  and  by  a 
great  deal  better  than  I  can  write  it,  so  we  will  put  it 
oif  until  I  get  home,  which,  by  the  way,  will  be  on  the 
25th  of  September.  I  am  to  sail  in  the  good  steamer 
Ville  de  Paris,  from  Brest  for  New  York,  on  the  15th 
of  September,  and  shall  be  with  you  in  ten  days  from 
that  time.  Does  n't  that  sound  near  ?  I  prefer  the 
French  steamers  to  the  English,  and  this  particular  one 
is  unsurpassed  by  any  boat  on  the  Atlantic.  Look  out 
for  her. 

To-day  I  have  been  to  one  of  the  great  London  sights 
of  the  year,  the  Charity  Scholars'  Festival,  under  the 


LONDON.  119 

dome  of  St.  Paul's,  four  thousand  little  wanderers 
gathered  together  and  singing  in  chorus.  I  never 
heard  anything  so  telling,  the  great  building  rang  with 
their  voices.  A  bishop  preached  the  sermon.  After 
the  performance  I  had  the  pleasure  of  lunching  with 
Dean  Milman,  a  charming  old  gentleman.  Do  you 
not  remember  his  "  Belshazzar,"  that  Dimmock  used  to 
spout  ?  This  evening  I  have  spent  with  Browning,  at 
the  Story s'  rooms  (they  have  just  come  to  London). 
He  (Browning)  was  one  of  the  men  I  wanted  most  to 
see  here,  a  pleasant  gentleman,  full  of  talk  about 
London  and  London  people,  with  not  a  bit  of  the  poet 
about  him  externally. 

Last  Monday  I  went  to  Eton,  to  their  great  annual 
festival.  Do  you  remember  Eton  Montem  in  the 
"  Parents'  Assistant "  ?  It  was  a  fine  day,  and  the  coun- 
try was  looking  very  beautiful.  And  I  saw  the  great- 
est of  the  great  English  schools  at  its  best. 

I  wrote  last  week  to  Fred  from  Cambridge.  I  con- 
tinued my  trip  to  Peterborough,  Ely,  and  Norwich, 
and  enjoyed  immensely  the  great  cathedrals  of  all  the 
towns  and  the  perfect  English  country.  Strong  has 
left  me  for  a  week  or  two  to  go  to  northern  England, 
to  see  some  places  which  I  visited  last  fall.  I  am  go- 
ing in  a  day  or  two,  and  shall  be  at  Birmingham  for  a 
Freedmen's  meeting,  on  the  12th ;  at  Oxford  for  the 
great  Commemoration  on  the  13th,  and  then  keep 
west.  Meet  Strong  again  at  Chester,  take  a  run 
through  Wales,  and  the  southern  part  of  England,  and 
get  back  to  London  about  the  first  of  July,  and  then 
be  off  to  Switzerland  with  your  rector. 

An  "Advertiser"  to-night  with  Seward's  speech. 
So  good-by ;  engage  Robin  for  September  26.  I  am 
very  well.     Lots  of  love  to  all.     Good-night. 

Phill. 


120  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

Warwick  Arms,  Warwick,  June  14. 

Dear  Father,  —  If  a  letter  is  going  to  you  at 
home  this  week,  it  must  be  written  to-night,  and  yet 
I  confess  I  don't  feel  much  like  writing  it.  I  have 
just  reached  here,  am  very  tired,  and  the  waiter  is 
thinking  of  bringing  me  some  dinner.  Until  it 
comes,  I  will  try  to  talk  to  you,  and  you  must  not 
be  surprised  if  you  find  me  stupid.  When  I  woke 
up  this  morning,  I  foimd  myseK  in  Stratford-on-Avon, 
where  I  faintly  remembered  arriving  late  last  night ; 
I  arose  as  soon  as  I  realized  where  I  was,  and  took  a 
walk  before  breakfast  across  the  nicest  and  quaintest 
of  English  fields,  to  see  the  old  farmhouse  where 
Shakespeare  made  love,  where  Anne  Hathaway  used 
to  live.  The  old  cottage  stands  without  an  alteration, 
and  is  a  charming  little  place.  Then  I  came  back  to 
breakfast,  and  after  that  was  over,  went  off  to  see  the 
rest,  —  the  birthplace,  schoolhouse,  burial-place,  and 
all  that  belongs  to  the  poet's  life  here,  which  we 
know  very  well  by  pictures  that  we  have  seen  all  our 
lives.  Nothing  in  England,  I  think,  has  a  stronger 
charm  than  this  queer  old  town.  About  noon,  I  took 
the  train  for  Warwick,  but,  finding  I  was  too  late  to 
see  the  castle  to-day,  I  looked  at  the  church  with  its 
monuments,  the  finest,  best  preserved  in  all  England, 
and  then  drove  across  the  loveliest  of  country,  stop- 
ping at  Guy's  Cliff,  where  the  earliest  of  the 
Warwicks,  the  hero  of  the  fairy  stories,  used  to  put 
up  (and  he  had  a  splendid  place  of  it),  to  Kenil- 
worth,  where  I  spent  the  whole  afternoon  among  the 
ruins,  and  such  an  afternoon  as  you  will  never  know 
anything  about  till  you  come  over  and  do  just  the 
same  thing.  By  the  way,  are  you  not  making  up 
your   mind   to  come  over  to  the  great  Paris  fair  of 


WARWICK.  121 

next  year?  It  is  time  for  you  and  mother  to  be 
thinking  about  it.  Then  I  came  down  to  Leam- 
ington, and  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  the  park  of  an 
English  watering-place,  and  finally  took  the  train 
back  to  Warwick,  where  I  am  waiting  to  see  the 
noblest  castle  in  England  to-morrow  morning.  That 
is  what  I  have  done  to-day.  Yesterday  I  spent  at 
Oxford ;  it  was  Commemoration,  which  is  their  Com- 
mencement, a  strange  sight,  —  perfect  wild  license  of 
the  students,  and  the  freest  liberty  to  chaff,  and  hoot, 
and  cheer  as  they  please.  It  was  a  picture  that  is  not 
to  be  seen  anywhere  else.  The  day  before  that,  I  was 
in  Birmingham,  telling  Britons  that  they  had  been 
slaves  to  prejudice  and  self-interest  about  America. 
The  day  before  that,  I  was  at  Blenheim,  the  great 
palace  of  Marlborough.  Do  you  remember  Mr. 
Everett's  splendid  description  of  it  in  his  Washington 
address  ?  The  two  days  before  that,  I  was  in  Oxford 
(Saturday  and  Sunday)  enjoying  the  most  perfect 
college  landscapes,  and  some  of  the  kindest  hospitality 
in  the  world.  That  takes  me  back  about  to  my  last 
letter,  and  accounts  pretty  fully  for  my  week. 

I  did  not  get  yours  of  last  week ;  they  are  waiting 
for  me  at  Chester,  where  I  shall  call  for  them  on 
Monday,  on  my  way  into  Wales.  I  hope  you  are 
all  well.  The  Fenians  seem  to  be  restless  again ;  I 
hope  we  shall  put  them  down  with  their  nonsense. 
And  why  do  you  not  either  try  Jeff  Davis,  or  let  him 
go  ?  It  would  be  a  great  relief  to  foreign  travelers. 
Before  you  get  this,  the  great  war  will  probably  have 
begun  over  here,  and  promises  to  be  terrible.  Three 
months  from  to-morrow  I  sail  for  you  all.  Good-by. 
God  bless  you  always.     Affectionately, 

Phillips. 


122  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

The  Goat  Hotel,  BEDDOEiiERT,  Wales, 
June  20,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  am  thinking  that  to-day  is 
Fred's  ordination  day,  and  that  you  and  father  are 
in  Philadelphia.  Am  I  right  ?  How  I  wish  I  could 
be  with  you.  I  wonder  where  the  ordination  is  ?  I 
hope  in  my  old  church.  It  would  always  be  a  very 
pleasant  thing  to  think  of  his  having  been  ordained 
there ;  wherever  it  is,  I  wish  him  with  all  my  heart 
every  blessing  and  success  in  his  ministry.  Of  course, 
you  will  write  me  about  it  at  once. 

I  am  in  Wales.  Get  your  map  and  find  this  little 
valley  where  we  have  hauled  up  in  the  rain.  It  lies 
at  the  foot  of  Snowdon,  shut  in  by  grand,  bleak 
Welsh  hills,  with  a  little  brawling  picturesque  Welsh 
stream  tumbling  among  them.  It  is  the  place,  you 
know,  of  the  old  murder  of  the  faithful  hound  by  his 
master,  LleweUyn.  Gelert's  grave  is  in  the  garden 
of  the  hotel.  My  views  of  Wales  are  much  like 
Jonah's,  very  wet;  it  has  rained,  off  and  on,  pretty 
much  all  day,  while  we  (Strong  and  I)  have  been 
driving  first  by  coach  to  Llanberis  from  Caernarvon, 
and  then  from  Llanberis  here  by  post.  Caernarvon 
is  on  the  coast,  with  a  noble  ivy-grown  castle  of  early 
times,  where  the  first  Prince  of  Wales  was  born. 
The  people  talk  an  unintelligible  gibberish  without 
vowels,  and  the  women  wear  shabby  hats,  and  all 
looks  quaint,  quiet,  and  thrifty.  The  road  thence 
to  Llanberis  is  very  beautiful,  and  Llanberis  itself 
nobly  situated  at  the  entrance  of  a  pass,  and  inter- 
esting with  its  pretty  waterfalls,  and  a  most  pictur- 
esque tower  of  the  sixth  century.  It  has  vast  quarries 
of  slate.  The  schoolboys  and  the  house  roofs  bid  fair 
to  be  kept  supplied  for  years  to  come.     From  Llan- 


WALES.  123 

beris  to  Beddgelert  the  scenery  is  glorious.  The 
wildest  pass,  with  tremendous  cliffs,  countless  water- 
falls, ivied  cottages,  and  quaint,  odd-looking  people 
everywhere.  Wales  delights  one  with  its  grandness 
and  majesty,  as  unlike  sunny  England  as  can  be. 

I  think  I  wrote  you  last  week  from  Warwick; 
thence  I  traveled  to  Rugby,  and  saw  the  old  school, 
and  all  that  reminds  one  of  Dr.  Arnold,  its  great 
master.  The  boys  were  at  a  cricket  match  in  the 
close,  and  all  looked  just  as  it  ought.  Then  to 
Coventry,  where  are  some  of  the  greatest  churches 
and  quaintest  houses  in  England,  and  "Peeping 
Tom,"  still  looking  out  of  a  hole  of  a  corner  house, 
in  perpetual  efl&gy.  Then  to  Chatsworth,  the  noblest 
private  residence  in  England,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire,  and  near  it  Haddon  Hall,  a  perfectly 
kept  specimen  of  the  old  baronial  hall,  the  best  in  the 
kingdom ;  then  to  Litchfield,  where  I  spent  Sunday. 
A  beautiful  cathedral,  a  lovely  country,  and  much  of 
interest  in  connection  with  Dr.  Johnson's  birth  in  the 
town,  and  its  previous  active  part  in  the  Civil  Wars. 
Monday  to  Chester,  where  I  was  rejoined  by  Strong, 
and  met  Potter  (your  rector),  who  joined  us  the  next 
day  to  Conway,  where  is  a  great  old  castle,  and  then 
to  Bangor  and  the  wonderful  tubular  bridge  over  the 
Menai  Straits ;  then  rail  to  Caernarvon,  which  brings 
my  story  complete.  Potter  left  us  to-day  to  push 
direct  to  London,  where  he  will  join  us  in  a  couple  of 
weeks  to  start  for  the  Continent.  He  is  very  well, 
and  seems  full  of  hope  about  Trinity.*  I  think  it  very 
likely  that  we  may  return  together. 

So  you  see  I  jog  on.  Every  day  is  full  of  new  pleasure, 
and  every  day  bringing  me  nearer  and  nearer  home. 
I  have  begun  to  count  the  weeks ;  only  fourteen  more, 


124  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

and  I  am  with  you.  Won't  it  be  nice  ?  This  terrible 
war,  which  has  begun  now,  will  perhaps  interfere 
with  some  of  my  summer  plans.  But  that  will  be 
the  least  of  its  evils,  and  I  will  not  complain.  I  have 
been  very  fortunate,  and  have  seen,  it  may  be,  more 
than  I  can  digest. 

I  found  letters  from  you  at  Chester,  but  now  shall 
get  no  more  till  I  reach  London,  ten  days  hence, 
which  is  hard. 

I  hear  from  Philadelphia  that  all  goes  well,  but  I 
want  to  be  there  more  than  I  am  wanted.  I  had  a 
letter  from  Dr.  Vinton  a  week  or  two  ago.  How  I 
wish  I  could  get  into  the  back  parlor  to-night,  and  I 
would  tell  you  a  great  deal  more  about  this  splendid 
Wales.  Good-by,  and  love  to  all.  I  am  very  well, 
and  always  your  loving  son,  Phillips. 

Albemarle  Hotel,  London, 
June  29,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  Last  week's  letter  was  sent  from 
the  heart  of  Wales,  the  foot  of  Snowdon.  This  is 
from  the  metropolis  again,  so  I  spin  along.  During 
the  week  I  have  seen  and  done  a  good  deal.  We 
climbed  to  the  "  Tip  Top  House  "  of  Snowdon,  and  so 
began  in  a  mild  way  our  summer's  mountaining.  The 
climb  does  not  amount  to  much.  The  view  is  one  of 
the  noblest  I  know,  with  infinite  variety  of  hill,  valley, 
and  lake,  and  the  sea  in  the  distance.  Then  we  took 
a  long  ride  through  most  perfect  scenery  from 
Beddgelert  to  Port  Madoc,  down  the  coast  to  Bar- 
mouth, and  thence  to  Dolgelly.  This  last  stage, 
from  Barmouth  to  Dolgelly,  is  the  finest  bit  in  Wales, 
and  can  hardly  be  surpassed  anywhere.  You  must 
take  it  when  you  come  abroad. 


LONDON.  125 

From  Dolgelly  we  came  across  the  country  to  Shrews- 
bury, then  down  to  Hereford,  where  there  is  a  fine  old 
cathedral,  on  to  Ross,  and  thence  by  a  most  beautiful 
ride  down  the  valley  of  the  Wye  to  Monmouth,  where 
we  spent  Sunday,  a  pretty  and  deadly  quiet  little 
village.  Keeping  still  down  the  Wye  to  Chepstowe,  we 
passed  Tintern  Abbey,  the  most  beautiful  monastic 
ruin  in  England.  You  cannot  conceive  how  lovely  it 
is,  with  its  exquisite  arches,  perfect  windows,  and 
immense  masses  of  rich  ivy,  Chepstowe  to  Gloucester, 
Worcester,  Bristol,  Wells,  all  interesting  towns,  with 
historical  associations,  fine  old  buildings,  and  delightful 
scenery.  Then  to  Salisbury,  and  there  I  saw  what  is 
to  me  the  most  impressive  thing  by  far  in  all  England, 
Stonehenge,  the  old  Briton  temple  out  on  Salisbury 
plain.  A  drive  of  eight  miles  from  the  town,  over  the 
green,  flat  plain,  got  us  there  just  before  dusk,  and  we 
saw  the  gigantic  ruin  looking  its  lordliest.  There 
was  something  very  grand  and  absolutely  refreshing 
in  those  enormous  rude,  gray  stones,  the  symbols 
of  old  strength,  and  will,  and  worship.  I  would  rather 
miss  seeing  anything  else  in  England  than  Stone- 
henge. From  Salisbury  to  Southampton,  and  thence 
to  Winchester,  which  is  full  of  interest,  and  then 
back  to  smoky,  dingy,  grand  old  London.  The 
whole  trip  has  been  delightful,  weather  fine,  except 
one  or  two  days,  and  the  scenery  looking  its  best. 
Now  I  have  done  with  England,  and  shall  start 
Monday  morning  for  Paris  again,  and  by  next  week's 
end  be  in  Switzerland. 

I  found  letters  here  from  you,  for  which  no  end  of 
thanks.  You  don't  know  how  much  I  enjoy  them. 
Next  Monday  is  your  birthday.  All  hail  to  you, 
0  thirty-two! 


126  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

I  met  your  friend,  Mrs.  Walter  Baker,  in  Wales. 
Tell  father  and  mother  I  want  to  know  all  about  the 
ordination.  Good-by,  and  in  three  months  more  I  am 
with  you.     Love  to  all. 

Your  affectionate  brother,  Phill. 

Stbasbubg,   July  7,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  have  an  hour  or  two  on  my 
hands,  and  will  begin  my  next  week's  letter.  I  am  on 
the  wing  again,  you  see,  and  set  for  Switzerland. 
Yesterday  I  was  at  Rheims,  one  of  the  most  interesting 
towns  of  France,  where  all  the  old  kings  used  to  be 
crowned,  and  where  a  good  many  of  them  are  buried. 
Its  cathedral  is  a  wonderful  thing  of  the  richest  and 
noblest  Gothic.  There  are  old  Roman  remains  in  the 
town,  too.  These  Romans  are  everywhere.  Then  I 
came  on  here.  I  wish  you  could  see  Strasburg ;  you 
coidd  hardly  find  a  better  specimen  of  an  old  town, 
half  French,  half  German,  than  this  is.  It  is  strange 
to  hear  them  talking  German  once  more.  It  seems 
like  last  autumn  over  again.  This  afternoon  I  am 
going  to  Baden-Baden,  the  great  watering  and  gaming 
place.  There  I  shall  spend  Sunday.  Thanks  to  the 
submission  of  Austria,  it  seems  now  as  if  the  whole 
Continent  would  be  open  enough  to  travel.  Is  n't  the 
news  good  ?  All  France  is  waving  with  flags  for  the 
glory  that  has  come  to  her  in  the  business.  Italy  will 
be  the  best  monument  that  Louis  Napoleon  wiU  leave 
behind  him,  and  it  will  cover  many  of  his  misdeeds. 
I  should  like  to  be  in  Venetia  now,  and  see  their  re- 
joicings. 

Basle,  Tuesday,  July  10. 

I  had  a  day  or  two  in  Baden-Baden,  and  then 
came  on  as  far  as  here,  where  my  tour  of  Switzeiland 


BASLE.  127 

really  begins.  I  enjoyed  Baden  very  much  indeed. 
Its  situation  is  most  beautiful,  and  everything  just 
now  is  looking  its  best.  The  great  gambling-place  is 
not  quite  as  full  as  usual  this  year.  The  war  has  kept 
some  away,  but  there  is  plenty  of  gayety  there,  and  the 
tables  are  going  from  morning  until  night.  Sunday 
morning,  just  after  breakfast,  I  saw  them  at  it,  and  I 
did  not  sit  up  late  enough  to  see  the  end.  The  walks 
and  drives  through  the  country  about  Baden  are 
charming.  No  wonder  it  is  a  place  of  such  attraction. 
I  came  from  there  here.  This  is  a  quiet  little  town, 
with  the  usual  old  cathedral  and  a  picture  gallery, 
and  the  Ehine  running  through  it.  There  is  nothing 
particularly  interesting  about  it.  I  am  waiting  only 
till  this  afternoon  for  Strong,  whom  I  left  in  Paris, 
and  who  will  probably  overtake  me  here.   .    .    . 

It  is  getting  quite  warm,  and  no  doubt  we  shall 
suffer  enough  from  the  heat  in  some  parts  of  Switzer- 
land ;  but  there  are  always  the  mountains  to  retreat 
to,  and  with  a  glacier  close  at  hand  one  ought  to  be 
able  to  get  along. 

I  hope  you  are  counting  the  time  as  closely  as  I  am 
to  my  getting  home.  Only  twelve  weeks  more,  and 
there  I  am.  How  you  will  miss  the  chance  of  writing 
me  a  letter  every  week,  and  what  a  saving  there  will 
be  in  postage !  I  am  hoping  to  hear,  when  I  get  to 
Geneva,  of  Fred's  ordination,  and  perhaps  of  his 
settlement  somewhere.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  in  a 
hurry  to  decide  where  to  go.  There  is  so  much  to  do 
everywhere  that  he  can  have  his  choice,  and  it  will  be 
a  great  deal  better  if  he  waits  till  fall. 

I  am  glad  you  have  had  a  journey.  I  hope  you 
went  to  West  Point  and  Niagara.  I  depend  on  hear- 
ing  all  about   it.     Next  year  you  and  father  must 


128  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

come   over  to  the   Great   Exposition.     Now  good-b^f 
for  another  week.     Love  to  all. 

Most  affectionately,  Phillips. 

Chamounix,  Tuesday  Evening,  July  17,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  I  write  to  you  to-night  from 
the  foot  of  Mont  Blanc.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
expect  the  letter  to  be  worthy  of  the  place,  but  here  I 
am  in  the  Hotel  Royal.  Early  this  morning,  George 
Strong  and  I  left  Geneva  (about  which  I  will  not  tell 
you  anything,  except  that  the  lake  is  one  of  the  love- 
liest things  on  the  earth),  in  the  back  boot  of  a  big 
lumbering  diligence,  with  five  horses,  and  set  our  faces 
towards  the  Alps.  For  five  broiling  hours  the  country 
was  tame  and  dull,  and  nothing  seemed  to  foretell 
Switzerland,  except  the  increasing  number  of  horrid- 
looking  people  with  goitres  on  their  necks,  who  came 
with  idiotic  grins  to  beg  by  the  coach  side.  About 
noon,  the  hills  began  to  gather  round  us,  an  occa- 
sional snow  patch  was  seen  up  among  the  clouds,  now 
and  then  a  waterfall  came  hurling  itself  down,  and 
saying  something  in  the  Alpine  tongue,  which  we 
had  n't  yet  learned  to  understand.  At  one  o'clock  (I 
want  to  be  exact  about  such  an  important  moment 
in  my  life),  we  drove  into  the  little  village  of  St. 
Martin,  and,  turning  suddenly  to  cross  the  gray,  small 
river  Arve,  which  had  been  brawling  at  our  side  all 
the  way,  the  driver  pulled  up  his  five  horses,  and  there 
was  Mont  Blanc,  as  vast,  and  grand,  and  white  as 
one  has  dreamed  of  it,  twelve  miles  off,  they  said, 
though  it  might  as  well  have  been  twelve  hundred, 
it  seemed  so  unapproachable  and  far  away,  although 
we  saw  its  whole  outline,  and  the  ridges  in  its  snow, 
and  the  great  black  needles  standing  up  out  of  the 


CHAMOUNIX.  129 

white  distinctly.  Well,  we  had  a  pretty  good  lunch 
at  the  town  on  the  other  side  of  the  bridge,  called 
Sallanches,  and  then,  leaving  our  diligence  behind,  took 
small  carriages  and  started  for  Chamounix.  It  was 
awfully  hot.  Our  brains  sizzled  and  steamed.  I  have 
been  as  hot  only  once  or  twice ;  never  hotter.  And 
the  snow  peaks  were  looking  down,  and  making  cool 
fun  of  us  all  the  time.  By  and  by,  we  came  to  a 
steep  hill,  and  had  to  get  out  and  climb  three  miles. 
When  we  reached  the  top,  Mont  Blanc  was  nearer 
and  plainer,  and  we  could  see  the  great  glaciers  run- 
ning down  the  sides,  and  ahnost  catch  the  sparkle  of 
the  intense  white  snow  on  top.  Then  the  heat  broke 
up  in  rain,  and  it  poured  down,  first  in  great  big  Al- 
pine drops,  and  then  in  sheets,  for  the  next  two  or 
three  miles.  When  this  was  over,  a  great  rainbow 
came,  tied  itself  like  a  sash  on  the  white  shoulder 
of  the  ridge,  and  fell  down  across  its  white  robe  to 
its  feet. 

We  entered  the  valley  of  Chamounix,  passed  along 
by  the  foot  of  the  Glacier  des  Boissons,  saw  the 
Mer  de  Glace  in  the  distance,  crossed  a  lot  of  bois- 
terous little  streams,  that  came  down  just  fresh  from 
the  great  calm  snow,  rattled  over  a  bridge  across 
the  Arve  again,  and  were  in  the  village;  secured 
rooms  in  a  sort  of  supplement  to  the  hotel,  which 
is  called  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  found  ourselves 
just  in  time  for  the  six  o'clock  table  d'hote. 

Chamounix  as  a  village  is  principally  three  great 
hotels,  with  no  end  of  little  ones.  All  the  other  houses 
are  connected  in  some  way  with  Alpine  tourists. 
It  is  safe  to  ask  at  any  house  for  an  alpenstock. 
The  general  appearance  of  the  town  reminds  me 
of   Gorham,  only  there  is  n't   a   railway,  and  there 


130  FIRST  JOURNEY   ABROAD. 

is  Mont  Blanc.  It  is  raining  guns  to-night,  but  my 
pair  of  big  shoes,  with  nails  in  the  soles,  are  out 
already  for  to-morrow.  Meanwhile,  a  flash  of  light- 
ning every  now  and  then  cuts  across  a  gap,  through 
which  you  can  look  at  the  snow,  that  has  laughed  at 
some  thousands  and  thousands  of  rain-storms. 

There,  young  man,  sometimes  you  complain  that  I 
don't  tell  you  what  I  am  doing.  Look  at  that !  I 
flatter  myself  nobody  ever  made  more  out  of  a  day's 
ride  than  that ;  certainly  you  will  know  at  least  how 
I  got  from  Geneva  to  Chamounix. 

At  Geneva,  I  found  letters,  all  whose  burden  was 
the  great  Philadelphia  visit.  One  from  you,  one 
from  father,  one  from  Mr.  Coffin,  and  a  little  slip 
from  Fred.  I  am  rejoiced  that  all  went  oif  so  well, 
and  now  I  depend  upon  hearing  about  the  new 
Eeverend's  future  plans.  Two  months  from  to-day  I 
shall  be  on  the  ocean.  The  Ville  de  Paris  made  a 
passage  of  nine  days  lately,  so  I  think  you  and  Eobin 
may  look  for  me  on  the  26th.  Now  good-by.  Glory, 
glory,  gloriation !  ten  more  weeks  before  vacation. 
•    .   .  Phill. 

GiESSBACH,  Switzerland,  August  5,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  To-day,  I  am  up  here  in  the 
woods,  with  the  famous  Falls  of  Giessbach  tumbling 
and  roaring  in  front  of  my  windows,  spending  Sun- 
day in  what,  if  it  were  not  for  the  great  hotel,  would 
be  the  most  retired  nook  of  all  creation. 

At  Interlaken,  the  other  day,  I  received  three  weeks' 
accumulation  of  letters;  a  good  feast  after  a  long 
starvation.  •  I  must  defer  all  accounts  of  my  own 
minor  travels  to  congratulate  you  on  the  great 
achievement  of   your  Niagara.     I  am  very  thankful 


GIESSBACH,  131 

that  you  have  been  there.  It  is  certainly  the  greatest 
wonder  of  Nature,  which  remark  has  been  made 
about  it  before,  perhaps,  but  I  want  to  assure  your 
complacency  by  letting  you  be  confident  that  the 
Old  World  has  nothing  to  show  that  will  compare 
with  it.  Mont  Blanc  is  pretty  grand,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  not  see  that,  too,  some  day, 
but  for  the  present  you  may  rest  well  satisfied  with 
Niagara. 

It  seems  lucky,  with  such  a  houseful  as  you  have 
had,  that  one  of  the  boys  was  safely  out  of  the  way 
in  Europe.  .  .  .  This  last  week,  I  have  been  seeing 
the  wonders  and  the  beauties  of  the  Bernese  Oberland, 
as  it  is  called,  that  part  of  Switzerland  which  lies 
about  the  lake  of  Thun.  Then  from  Macugnaga, 
where  I  wrote  last  Sunday,  I  came  down  the  valley 
of  Anzasca  to  Domo  d'  Ossola,  then  over  the  great 
Simplon  Eoad  to  Brieg,  over  the  Gemmi  Pass  to 
Thun,  down  the  lake  of  Lucerne,  over  the  mountains, 
close  to  the  splendid  Jungfrau  to  Meyringen,  and 
from  there  to  this  mountain  side  on  the  lake  of 
Brienz.  It  has  aU  been  splendid.  The  beauty  of 
Switzerland  is,  that  it  has  no  dull  places,  and  one  is 
never  tired,  only  sometimes  bewildered  a  little  with 
its  endless  attractions.    Strong  and  I  are  still  together. 

The  great  interest  of  your  letters  was  what  you 
told  me  of  Fred's  beginnings  in  the  good  work. 
Everything  seems  to  be  going  splendidly  with  him, 
as  everybody  knew  it  would.  I  hear  indirectly  from 
parishioners,  whom  I  meet  here,  of  how  great  is  the 
impression  that  he  made  in  Philadelphia.  I  hope 
he  will  not  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  settle  far  away,  but 
that  I  shall  see  him  somewhere  in  September. 

This  is  a  poor  letter,  still  I  am  no  less  your  loving 


132  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

son,  and  will  tell  you  so  by  word  of  mouth  in  seven 
weeks  and  a  half.     Good-by,  love  to  all. 

Phillips. 


Arona,  Lago  Maggiore, 
Sunday,  August  12,  1866. 

Dear  William,  —  Last  week  I  wrote  from  the 
borders  of  the  lake  of  Brienz.  To-day  you  see  I  am 
on  an  Italian  lake,  in  a  different  atmosphere  and 
among  a  very  different  people.  The  traveler  over 
these  Swiss  passes  is  constantly  changing  back  and 
forth  between  two  nations  and  climates,  as  different  as 
any  to  be  conceived  of.  It  was  very  striking,  the 
other  day,  as  we  came  over  the  St.  Gotthard.  At  two 
o'clock  we  were  in  the  midst  of  snow  fields  and  icy 
streams,  bleak  mountain  tops  and  cold,  bitter  winds ; 
then,  as  we  began  to  descend,  we  came  to  sun,  fruits, 
and  flowers,  and  at  five  o'clock  were  reveling  in  the 
softest  air  and  sunniest  sky,  the  roads  were  hemmed 
in  by  endless  vineyards,  the  girls  were  offering  peaches 
and  apricots  at  the  diligence  window,  and  soft  Ital- 
ian words  had  taken  the  place  in  the  lazy-looking 
people's  mouths  of  the  harsher  German. 

Since  last  Sunday  I  have  crossed  the  lake  of  Brienz, 
passed  through  the  Brunig  Pass  to  Lucerne,  sailed 
over  its  lake,  the  most  picturesque  in  Switzerland, 
climbed  the  Rigi,  and  spent  the  inevitable  night  there 
among  its  swarming  tourists  (the  sunset  was  glorious, 
but  the  sun  rose  nobody  knew  when,  for  the  dense 
cloud).  We  then  drove  to  Andermatt,  where  we 
stopped  to  climb  the  Furca  Pass  and  see  the  great 
Glacier  of  the  Rhone,  over  the  St.  Gotthard,  and  down 
this  noble  lake  to  its  southern  point,  whence  I  write 
to  you.     There  is  a  feeble  band  playing  outside  the 


THUSIS.  133 

hotel,  a  young' woman  is  walking  across  a  rope  over 
the  street,  and  all  the  ceremonies  of  a  Sunday  circus 
are  in  full  blast,  to  the  great  enjoyment  of  the  popula- 
tion, priests  and  all. 

We  shall  spend  a  few  days  here  among  the  lakes, 
and  then  strike  northward  again.  Our  plans  will  be 
regulated  somewhat  by  the  possibihty  which  the  very 
misettled  state  of  affairs  allows  of  our  visiting  more  or 
less  of  the  Tyrol,  but  we  hope  to  come  out  any  way  at 
Munich,  and  get  a  day  or  two  there  before  I  return  to 
Paris  to  sail.  To-day's  newspaper  brings  the  news 
that  the  armistice  is  signed  at  last  and  peace  must 
follow  soon.  Mr.  L.  Napoleon,  it  seems,  is  cutting 
in  about  those  Ehine  provinces,  and  will  probably  get 
what  he  wants ;  it  is  a  way  he  has.    .    .    . 

I  received  a  letter  from  you  at  Andermatt,  and  a 
good  one,  too.  Is  Fred  still  with  you  ?  I  hope  soon 
to  hear  something  about  his  plans.  Is  n't  it  funny,  to 
think  that  this  is  the  last  letter  you  will  have  any 
chance  to  answer  ?  Good-night,  no  end  of  love  to  all. 
Affectionately, 

Phillips. 


Thusis,  Switzerland, 
Sunday,  August  19,  1866. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  wrote  the  other  day  to  Fred, 
but  I  suppose  that  will  not  be  allowed  to  pass  for  my 
weekly  letter.  At  any  rate,  as  there  are  only  two 
more  to  write,  I  won't  be  mean,  but  give  you  the  full 
measure.  We  are  beginning  to  see  our  way  through 
Switzerland  now,  and  there  are  no  broken  heads  or 
legs.  Last  Sunday  I  wrote  from  the  lower  end  of 
lake  Maggiore.  Since  then  we  have  seen  the  lakes 
Maggiore,  Lugano,  and  Como  ;  all  of  them,  especially 


134  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

the  last,  very  beautiful.  Indeed,  in'  its  own  sort, 
nothing  can  be  more  lovely  than  lake  Como.  We 
stayed  one  day  at  Bellagio  on  its  eastern  shore,  and 
then  sailed  down  to  Como,  where  we  spent  a  night, 
and  then  up  to  Colico  near  its  head. 

From  here  we  drove  over  the  Maloja  Pass  into  the 
upper  Engadine,  one  of  the  most  interesting  regions 
of  all  Switzerland,  peculiar  in  climate,  scenery,  and 
customs.  Their  own  description  of  their  climate  is 
that  they  have  "  nine  months  winter  and  three  months 
cold,"  and  as  we  entered  their  high  table-land,  out  of 
sunny  Italy,  we  put  on  great-coats  and  buttoned  up  to 
the  chin  against  the  bitter  cold.  The  scenery  is  very 
grand,  hardly  surpassed  in  the  region  of  Mont  Blanc  or 
Monte  Rosa.  We  stopped  at  Pontresina,  and  from 
there  climbed  the  Piz  Languard,  the  observatory 
mountain  of  the  district,  and  had  snow-peak  and  gla- 
cier views  of  surpassing  grandeur  to  our  hearts'  con- 
tent. Think  of  that,  while  you  were  sweltering  in  Bos- 
ton dog-days.  They  call  their  language,  down  there, 
the  Ladein,  and  it  comes  nearer  to  the  genuine  old 
Latin  than  anything  else  in  existence.  It  was  very  in- 
teresting. There  is  a  great  bathing  establishment  in 
the  Engadine,  called  St.  Moritz,  with  lots  of  visitors, 
among  others,  a  Mr.  G.  McClellan,  formerly  an  Amer- 
ican general.     I  did  not  see  him. 

From  Pontresina  we  drove  over  the  Alps  again  by 
the  Julier  Pass  to  Tiefenkasten,  and  from  there 
walked  across  one  of  the  picturesque  foot  passes  to 
this  little  village  on  the  banks  of  the  infant  Rhine,  at 
the  gate  of  the  great  Splugen  Pass.  From  here  we 
shall  explore  the  Splugen  and  its  wonderful  Via  Mala, 
then  go  north  by  Zurich  to  Constance,  through  their 
lakes,  and  so  on  to  Munich.     From  there  a  little  trip 


MUNICH.  135 

into  the  Austrian  Tyrol,  then  back  to  Paris,  where  I 
hope  to  be  three  weeks  from  to-day.  Four  weeks 
from  yesterday  my  boat  is  on  the  shore,  my  bark  is 
on  the  sea,  and  my  foreign  travels  will  be  over. 

There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  heavy  rain  in  Swit- 
zerland this  year,  but  we  have  very  happily  escaped  it 
almost  all.  I  remember  only  four  rainy  days.  It 
looks  now  a  little  as  if  it  might  be  ugly  weather  to- 
morrow. 

No  letters  from  home  lately.  Some  more  are  or- 
dered to  Zurich,  where  I  shall  get  them  Wednesday 
or  Thursday.  I  hope  you  are  all  well  and  begin  to 
have  a  sort  of  confidence  that,  as  all  has  gone  so  cap- 
itally so  far,  I  shall  have  no  disappointment  or  bad 
news  for  the  rest  of  my  time.  I  hope  you  will  have 
as  perfect  a  success  when  you  come.  The  Exposition, 
you  know,  is  next  summer. 

Strong  wishes  to  be  remembered  to  you.  I  suppose 
he  will  return  to  Paris  with  me. 

Phillips. 


Hotel  Veebjahreszeiten,  Munich, 
Sunday,  August  26,  1866. 

Dear  Mother,  —  Here  goes  for  my  last  letter  but 
one.  If  you  have  done  such  a  foolish  thing  as  to 
keep  any  of  my  letters,  you  might  find  among  them 
one,  almost  a  year  back,  dated  from  this  same  hotel 
with  the  horrible  name  to  it,  where  I  am  writing 
now.  How  little  time  ago  it  seems !  But  what  a  lot 
has  come  in  between.  It  was  last  October,  and  I 
was  just  going  to  Vienna ;  since  then,  all  the  East, 
Italy,  France,  England,  and  now  Switzerland.  Yes, 
Switzerland  is  done,  and  except  for  the  little  glimpse 


136  FIRST  JOURNEY   ABROAD. 

that  I  shall  get  of  them  in  the  beautiful  Tyrol,  I  have 
seen  my  last  of  the  white  hills.  I  look  forward  to 
nothing  afterwards  but  a  quiet  week  of  loafing  in 
Paris,  and  then  the  steamer.  Two  weeks  after  you 
get  this,  I  hope  you  will  get  me. 

I  found  letters  at  Constance  from  William  and  Mr. 
Coffin.  William's  was  from  that  paradise  on  the 
seashore  where  they  all  went  this  summer.  They 
seem  to  be  having  a  splendid  time,  and  not  to  envy 
even  S>vitzerland.  I  do  not  wonder  that  they  enjoyed 
it,  for  they  had  sufficiently  varied  materials  for  a  very 
pleasant  party.  I  am  glad  that  Fred  was  with  them, 
and  was  not  rector  of  anything  up  to  that  date.  I 
dare  not  hope  that  such  a  state  of  things  will  last 
long,  but  it  makes  me  think  that  I  may  possibly  find 
him  not  yet  emigrated  to  any  of  the  ends  of  the  earth 
when  I  get  back. 

The  great  item  of  home  news  in  the  two  last  let- 
ters is  one  that  interests  me  deeply.  Bridget  has 
gone  I  You  only  state  the  bald  fact,  but  give  no 
particulars  about  her  successor,  as  if  it  were  not  a 
matter  of  profound  interest,  even  to  an  occasional 
visitor  under  the  home  roof.  I  do  not  care  what  her 
name  is,  but  what  can  she  do  ?  Has  she  any  power 
to  create  those  particular  home  dishes  that  have  never 
been  seen  anywhere  else  ?  Or  is  she  some  new 
person,  who  will  introduce  another  order  of  things, 
and  serve  up  the  same  round  of  endless  stuff  that  one 
gets  everywhere  besides  ?  Remember,  I  insist  on 
flapjacks  and  fishballs.  As  to  Bridget,  she  never  was 
a  cheerful  person ;  rather  glimi  and  solemn,  not  a 
sunshiny  picture  to  have  about  the  house ;  and  her 
flapjacks  for  the  last  few  years  were  nothing  to  what 
they  were,  a  trifle  clammy  and  heavy ;  so  that  I  will 


PARIS.  137 

not  shed  any  tears  over  lier  departure,  but  hope  the 
new-comer  may  beat  her  all  hollow. 

If  this  seems  a  foolish  letter  to  send  over  the  seas, 
just  turn  to  my  exceedingly  sensible  one,  which  I 
have  no  doubt  I  wrote  last  year,  and  read  all  you 
want  to  know  about  Munich.  What 's  the  use  of 
writing  when  I  can  tell  you  all  in  four  weeks? 
Good-by.     Love    to   everybody. 

Phillips. 


Grand  Hotel,  Paris,  September  6, 

Dear  William,  —  In  answer  to  your  last  letter, 
here  comes  mine,  written  in  a  great  hurry,  at  the  last 
moment ;  you  see  I  am  so  lazy,  this  farewell  week  in 
Paris,  that  I  have  not  time  for  anything.  My  work 
is  over,  and  I  am  just  sitting  here  like  a  fellow  who 
runs  over  the  index  of  the  book  he  has  been  reading, 
to  see  this  epitome  of  aU  Europe  and  of  all  the 
world,  —  the  cosmopolitan  city,  sparkling,  beautiful 
Paris.  But  you  will  be  here  some  day  and  see  it  for 
yourseK,  so  what 's  the  use  of  telling  you  ?  Since  I 
wrote  from  Munich,  I  have  roamed  down  into  the 
Tyrol  and  back  again,  and  seen  there  some  of  the 
most  picturesque  of  scenery  and  life.  Then  I  put 
right  off  for  here,  where  I  shall  stay  till  a  week  from 
to-morrow  morning,  when  I  take  the  train  for  a 
sixteen  hours'  ride  to  Brest,  and  then  on  Saturday 
afternoon  go  aboard  the  Ville  de  Paris,  Captain 
Saumon,  for  New  York.  I  shall  get  out  of  New 
York  by  the  earliest  conveyance  for  Boston,  and 
probably  be  with  you  some  time  on  the  26th  or  27th. 
The  last  trip  of  the  steamer  from  New  York  took  a 
little  over  nine  days.  We  shall  be  likely,  at  this 
season,  to  be  a  little  slower,  but  you  shall  see  me  as 


138  FIRST  JOURNEY  ABROAD, 

soon  as  I  can  get  over  to  Boston.  Will  you  not  drop 
a  line  to  New  York  and  tell  them  to  send  the 
"Nation"  to  Philadelphia? 

So  good-by.  When  you  hear  the  doorbell  ring  at 
No.  41,  some  time  week  after  next,  if  you  don't 
make  haste  to  let  me  in,  I  will  give  it  to  you. 

Your  affectionate  brother,  Phill. 


IN  THE  TYEOL  AND   SWITZERLAND. 

1870. 

Steamer  Hammonia,  Thursday,  July  7, 1870. 

Dear  Father,  —  It  rains  to-day,  and  is  very  wet, 
miserable,  and  disagreeable,  the  second  bad  day  we 
have  had  on  our  voyage.  One  cannot  go  on  deck 
without  getting  wet  through  and  his  eyes  full  of  cin- 
ders. The  cabin  is  crowded  and  close,  and  I  have 
slept  and  read  tiU  I  cannot  sleep  or  read  any  more ; 
so  you  see  it  is  time  to  begin  to  write  home,  and 
report  myseK. 

We  got  off  safely  on  Tuesday,  the  28th,  punctually 
at  two  o'clock.  Monday  night  I  spent  at  Potter's, 
and  we  went  up  to  Thomas's  Gardens  and  heard  mu- 
sic. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Franks  met  me  at  the  station,  but 
I  suppose  you  have  seen  them  before  this.  We  were 
a  queer  set  who  sailed  together,  not  many  Americans, 
—  Germans,  Italians,  Mexicans,  Danes,  and  all  sorts  of 
people.  It  makes  a  very  interesting  ship's  company. 
There  are  a  lot  of  Jews  ;  nobody  except  Dr.  Derby 
and  his  wife  and  the  Mason  family,  whom  I  ever  saw 
before.  The  ship  is  a  good  one,  not  equal  in  size  or 
speed  to  the  Cmiard  or  French  steamers,  but  more 
convenient  in  some  respects. 

We  have  had  a  splendid  passage,  only  two  rainy 
days  ;  most  of  the  time  clear,  bright,  sunny  weather, 
and  now  moonlight  nights.  Being  a  screw  steamer, 
she   rolls   pretty  badly.     I  have  been  perfectly  well 


140      IN   THE    TYROL   AND  SWITZERLAND. 

and  enjoyed  it  immensely.  We  shall  be  rather  later 
than  I  expected;  probably  reach  Plymouth  some  time 
to-morrow  night,  and  Cherbourg  Saturday  morning. 
I  shall  go  to  Paris  on  Saturday  night,  and  reach 
there  about  four  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning.  I  will 
mail  this  at  Plymouth,  and  your  getting  it  will  show 
you  that  I  am  so  far  safe.  You  probably  will  have 
seen  the  ship  reported  by  telegraph.  It  has  been  a 
most  propitious  beginning  for  my  little  trip. 

I  wonder  what  has  happened  at  home  since  I  left. 
Be  sure  and  write  me  everything ;  write  every  week, 
some  of  you.  I  hope  you  are  off  to  Niagara  before 
this.     Love  all  aroimd. 

Affectionately  your  son,  Phillips. 

COURMAYEUR,    ItAIjT, 

Sunday,  July   17,   1870. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  have  not  written  since  I  landed, 
of  which  I  am  a  little  ashamed,  but  I  have  been  very 
busy,  and  it  has  been  hard  to  find  a  place  to  write  in. 
But  here  I  am,  on  Sunday  afternoon,  sitting  on  the 
gallery  of  this  queer  hotel,  in  this  funny  old  Italian 
town,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Alps.  In  front  is  a 
tremendous  mountain,  with  a  great  glacier  upon  its 
face,  and  at  the  foot  an  old  square  tower  with  a 
peaked  roof,  which  may  have  been  a  fortress,  but  is 
now  a  house  full  of  beggars ;  and  in  the  street  in  front 
there  is  a  crowd  of  people  chattering  a  vile  language 
which  is  half  Italian  and  half  French.  This  morning 
I  went  to  the  English  service  here  and  heard  a  pretty 
good  sermon.  This  afternoon  I  thought  I  would 
rather  write  to  you. 

When  I  wrote  to  father  we  were  still  on  the  Ham- 
monia.     She  reached  Plymouth  on  Friday  afternoon, 


COURMAYEUR.  141 

the  8th  of  July,  and  we  landed  a  few  passengers  and 
then  sailed  to  Cherbourg,  where  we  arrived  very  early 
Saturday  morning,  the  9th.  I  landed  about  five  o'clock, 
and  the  steamer  went  on  to  Hamburg.  From  Cher- 
bourg it  was  a  ride  of  all  day  by  train  to  Paris,  from 
eight  A.  M.  to  six  P.  M.  The  first  part  of  the  ride 
was  through  a  country  wholly  new  to  me  and  very  in- 
teresting, —  Normandy,  with  its  quaint  people,  towns, 
and  splendid  cathedrals ;  Bayeux  and  Caen,  and  so  on. 
I  stayed  over  Sunday,  Monday,  and  Tuesday  in  Paris, 
made  some  purchases,  and  enjoyed  the  life  of  the  won- 
derful gay  city.  Then  I  rode  all  Tuesday  night  by  rail 
to  Geneva,  where  I  met  Cooper,  and  our  Alpine  trip 
began.  First  we  drove  to  Chamounix  and  looked  Mont 
Blanc  in  the  face,  from  the  side  where  I  have  seen  him 
before.  He  was  good  enough  to  be  perfectly  clear, 
and  we  saw  him  splendidly. 

The  next  morning  we  started,  and  had  a  hard  day's 
tramp  over  the  Col  de  Voza  and  through  two  of  the 
great  valleys  of  the  Mont  Blanc  range,  with  magnifi- 
cent views  all  the  way,  and  spent  the  night  way  up  in 
the  heart  of  the  hills  at  a  mountain  chalet,  where  the 
cows  and  sheep  had  the  lower  story  and  we  had  the 
upper.  It  smelt  of  them  a  little,  and  we  heard  their 
bells,  but  the  beds  were  good  and  we  were  very  tired. 
The  next  morning  we  set  out  at  five  o'clock,  and 
walked  thirty-three  miles  over  three  high  passes,  across 
snow  and  rocks,  and  finally  through  the  Allee  Blanche, 
the  great  gorge  behind  Mont  Blanc,  with  its  tremen- 
dous dome  and  its  pinnacles  and  great  rocky  wall 
towering  over  us.  It  was  splendid  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion. We  reached  here  at  ten  o'clock  well  tired  out, 
and  to-day  are  resting.  From  here  we  go  on  to  Aosta ; 
then   across   the  St.  Theodule  Pass  to   Zermatt,  and 


142      IN   THE   TYROL   AND  SWITZERLAND. 

shall  spend  next  Sunday  probably  at  Andermatt  on 
the  St.  Gotthard  Pass. 

I  have  engaged  passage  home  by  the  Ville  de  Paris, 
to  sail  on  the  10th  of  September  from  Brest ;  the  same 
steamer  in  which  I  returned  before. 

Everywhere  there  are  rumors  of  wars  about  the 
Spanish  business,  but  for  three  days  we  have  been  out 
of  reach  of  telegraph  and  cannot  know  anything  of 
their  truth.  Please  tell  father  that  I  bought  some 
bronzes  in  Paris,  and  ask  him  to  pay  the  charges  on 
the  box  and  keep  it  for  me. 

I  have  none  of  your  letters  yet,  and  shall  not  have 
any  for  a  week  or  more  ;  but  do  keep  writing.  I 
hope  that  you  have  been  to  Niagara.  Good-by,  love 
to  all.  Phillips. 

Andermatt,  July  24,  1870. 

Dear  William,  —  I  wonder  what  you  have  all  been 
about  at  home  since  I  left  you  at  the  Worcester  sta- 
tion four  weeks  ago  to-morrow  morning.  I  have  not 
heard  a  word  yet,  and  shall  not  get  letters  till  to-mor- 
row night,  when  we  reach  Coire,  to  which  place  I  have 
ordered  letters  sent.  I  hope  you  are  all  weU  and 
having  a  pleasant  simimer.  Last  Sunday  I  wrote  to 
mother  from  Courmayeur  in  Italy.  Since  then  we 
have  had  a  week  of  splendid  weather  and  constant 
movement. 

First,  we  rode  down  the  beautiful  valley  of  Aosta 
to  Chatillon  through  vineyards,  Italian  towns,  and 
very  hot  Italian  roads.  Tuesday  we  climbed  up  the 
steep  and  ugly  valley  of  Val  Tournanche  and  slept  at 
Breuil,  under  the  shadow  of  the  splendid  Matterhorn. 
Wednesday  we  crossed  from  Italy  to  Switzerland  again 
by  the   glacier   pass   of   St.  Theodule,  between   the 


ANDERMATT,  143 

Matterhorn  and  Monte  Rosa,  with  great  views  of  both 
and  a  hundred  giants  besides,  and  descended  to  Zer- 
matt.  Thursday  we  came  down  from  Zermatt  to  the 
valley  of  the  Rhone,  and  slept  at  Fiesch ;  Friday  we 
climbed  the  Eggishorn,  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
points  of  view  in  all  Switzerland,  commanding  the 
Jungfrau  and  its  big  neighbors  and  the  great  Aletsch 
Glacier  (the  longest  in  Switzerland),  the  Matterhorn, 
and  Mont  Blanc.  Yesterday  we  came  over  the  Furca 
Pass,  close  beside  the  great  Rhone  Glacier,  out  of 
which  the  mighty  river  starts,  and  reached  this  quiet 
little  German-Swiss  village  on  the  St.  Gotthard  road 
yesterday  evening. 

It  is  a  lovely  day,  and  it  is  good  to  rest  for  twenty- 
four  hours.  To-morrow  we  are  off  for  a  ramble  through 
northeast  Switzerland,  and  shall  bring  up  next  Sunday 
at  Ober-Ammergau  for  the  great  Miracle  Play.  When 
that  is  over,  I  shall  have  five  weeks  still  for  a  jour- 
ney in  the  Tyrol  before  I  go  back  to  Paris  to  sail  for 
home. 

Meanwhile,  there  is  war  in  Europe,  the  most  unne- 
cessary and  wicked  of  wars  that  ever  was  made.  France 
has  been  insolent  and  arrogant  beyond  herseK.  It 
probably  will  be  short  and  severe.  A  troop  of  soldiers 
just  passed  by  the  hotel.  Switzerland,  of  course,  is 
neutral,  but  is  arming  her  borders.  We  have  been 
out  of  the  way  of  the  war  as  yet,  and  probably  shaU 
not  see  much  of  it. 

Do  write  me  how  everything  goes  on  at  home  and 
at  the  church.  Give  my  love  to  Mary,  and  to  all  at 
home.  Affectionately,  Phill. 


144      IN   THE   TYROL  AND  SWITZERLAND. 

IscHL,  Austria,  July  31,  1870. 

Dear  Father,  —  You  have  written  me  twice,  and 
well  deserve  that  this  Sunday's  letter  should  go  to 
you.  This  Ischl  is  the  great  watering-place  of  Austria. 
Here  the  Emperor  has  his  summer  palace,  and  the 
great  Vienna  swells  come  hither  to  be  under  the 
shadow  of  his  magnificence.  Of  course  we  Ameri- 
cans come,  too,  to  see  the  fun.  Besides  this,  it  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  It  is  at  the  junction  of  five  of  the  most 
lovely  wild  Tyrolese  valleys,  and  is  a  pretty  little 
open  piece  of  plain  with  two  bright  streams  running 
through  it. 

We  were  at  Andermatt  last  Sunday.  We  crossed 
the  Oberalp  on  Monday,  a  long  day's  ride  to  Coire. 
There  we  spent  a  day,  making  a  visit  to  the  famous 
baths  of  Pfaffers.  From  Coire  we  went  by  the  lake 
of  Constance  and  by  rail  to  a  quiet  little  Bavarian 
town,  called  Kempten.  Here  we  heard  what  we  had 
rumors  of  before,  that  the  great  Ober-Ammergau 
Passion  Play  was  given  up  on  account  of  the  war, 
several  of  the  principal  characters  having  been  drafted 
into  the  Bavarian  army.  This  was  a  disappointment, 
for  it  was  one  of  the  great  things  which  I  had  hoped 
to  see  in  coming  abroad.  On  Thursday  we  pushed 
on  to  Munich.  Friday  morning  I  saw  at  Munich  a 
great  mass  in  the  cathedral  on  behalf  of  the  German 
side  of  the  war.  The  King  and  all  his  court  were 
present.  Bavaria  seems  very  enthusiastic  on  the 
German  side.  From  Munich  on  Friday  afternoon  to 
Salzburg,  the  most  picturesque  of  towns,  where  I  had 
been  five  years  ago,  but  was  very  glad  to  be  again. 
Yesterday  the  loveliest  ride,  first  by  rail  to  the  head  of 
the  Traun  See ;  then  a  beautiful  sail  down  the  lake. 


MALNITZ.  145 

and  a  ride  of  two  hours  up  the  valley  of  the  Traun 
River  to  Austria,  and  here  we  are. 

The  preparations  for  war  go  on.  They  interfere 
with  us  only  so  far  as  money  is  concerned.  At 
Munich  we  had  to  lose  eight  per  cent,  on  a  draft 
on  Paris.  We  have  had  no  disappointment  yet, 
except  Ober-Ammergau.  The  Masons  are  here.  I 
saw  the  Morrills  at  Munich.  Your  letters  received  up 
to  July  9th.  Now  we  go  out  of  reach  of  letters  for 
several  weeks.     I  am  very  well.     Love  to  all. 

Affectionately,  Phill. 

Malnitz,  August  7, 1870. 
Dear  Mother,  —  I  think  you  will  not  find  this 
town  on  any  map  at  home.  Indeed,  it  is  not  easy  to 
find  when  one  is  very  close  to  it,  for  it  is  hidden 
away  among  mountains  of  the  biggest  kind,  and  is  the 
littlest  sort  of  a  town  itself.  Besides  this  Hotel  of 
the  Chamois,  where  we  are  staying,  and  the  church, 
which,  like  all  the  churches  of  this  region,  seems 
unreasonably  large  for  the  population,  there  is  not 
another  good-sized  building  in  the  village.  The  streets 
are  sheep-paths,  and  there  is  not  a  vehicle  in  the 
town.  But  the  scenery  is  gorgeous,  and  the  simple 
ways  of  the  people  are  very  interesting.  Yesterday, 
we  walked  over  a  high  mountain  pass  from  Bad  Gas- 
tein.  It  is  a  rough  and  steep  road,  with  a  good  deal 
of  snow,  etc.  All  along  the  road  were  little  shrines, 
put  up  where  men  at  dangerous  parts  of  the  year  had 
lost  their  lives  by  avalanches  or  falls,  with  rude  pic- 
tures of  the  accident,  and  an  address  to  the  Virgin, 
and  a  horrible  religious  painting  or  carving  of  some 
sort.  The  people  are  very  religious  and  very  hos- 
pitable.    It  is  quite   pretty,  the  way  they  bless  you 


146      IN  THE   TYROL  AND  SWITZERLAND. 

and  kiss  your  hand  when  you  go  away,  particularly  if 
you  have  paid  them  well. 

To  be  sure,  their  bread  is  dreadful,  and  their  meat 
is  cooked  in  fearful  and  wonderful  ways  ;  but  there  is 
plenty  of  good  milk  and  splendid  beer  everywhere, 
and  eggs  and  trout  abound ;  you  always  walk  enough 
to  be  hungry  for  any  food.  The  beds  are  short, 
and  the  bedclothes  shorter,  but  one  gets  along  with 
a  supplementary  shawl  and  plenty  of  fatigue;  and 
the  mountains,  lakes,  meadows  and  waterfalls,  are 
glorious.  We  have  had  a  splendid  week.  Monday 
and  Tuesday  we  spent  among  the  lakes  of  the  Salz- 
kammergut,  the  region  about  Isclil.  There  are  a  score 
of  them,  all  beautiful,  shut  in  by  mountains,  which 
you  cross  from  one  to  another ;  and  there  is  always  a 
Tyrolese  girl,  ready  to  take  her  boat  and  row  you 
across  to  start  on  for  another. 

Wednesday,  we  took  a  carriage,  and  for  two  days 
drove  through  the  valley  of  the  Salza,  till,  far  up 
among  the  hills,  we  came  to  the  very  beautiful  water- 
ing place  of  the  Austrians,  Bad  Gastein.  It  is  lovely 
as  a  dream,  —  just  a  deep  mountain  gorge  with  a 
wild  cataract  plunging  down  through  it,  and  splendid 
mountains  towering  above ;  mineral  baths,  which  are 
very  pleasant.  Yesterday,  we  walked  across  the  moun- 
tains, partly  in  the  rain,  spending  two  hours,  while  it 
was  pouring,  far  up  in  a  chalet,  where  they  were 
making  Swiss  cheese  in  the  dirtiest  and  most  pictur- 
esque hole  you  ever  saw.  This  is  the  first  untimely 
rain  that  we  have  had.  This  next  week  will  be  our 
finest  mountain  week. 

The  war  goes  on,  but  we  only  hear  of  it  by  occa^ 
sionally  seeing  a  week-old  paper  at  some  country  inn. 
I  hope  it  will  not  interfere  with  my  getting  to  Paris 


MERAN,  147 

and  sailing  on  the  10th  of   September.     That  is  my 
selfish  view  of  it. 

I  shall  not  hear  yet  for  three  weeks,  but  then  expect 
a  batch  of  letters.  I  hope  you  are  all  well.  Love 
to  all.  Affectionately  your  son, 

Phillips. 

Meran,  Tyrol,  August  14,  1870. 

Dear  Fred,  —  I  have  been  meaning  to  write  you 
ever  since  I  came  abroad  ;  especially,  I  had  a  notion  of 
writing  to  you  on  your  birthday,  the  glorious  5th,  but 
the  mountains  were  too  many  for  me,  and  every  night 
I  was  so  tired  that  I  was  fain  to  get  into  my  uncom- 
fortable little  Dutch  bed  as  soon  as  possible.  I  warn 
you  beforehand,  that  you  will  have  an  awful  time 
with  the  beds  when  you  come  into  these  parts.  You 
and  I  are  too  long.  I  have  just  escaped  from  a  bed 
at  this  untimely  hour  on  Sunday  morning,  because 
I  could  not  stretch  out  straight,  or  make  the  narrow 
bedclothes  come  over  me,  and  that 's  the  reason  why 
at  this  present  moment  I  come  to  be  writing  to  you. 

I  have  had  five  glorious  weeks  of  Switzerland  and 
the  Tyrol,  Mont  Blanc,  Monte  Rosa,  the  Matterhorn, 
the  Jungfrau,  the  Grossglockner,  and  the  Marmo- 
lata.  I  have  seen  them  all  face  to  face,  had  splendid 
weather,  walked  myself  into  good  condition,  found  the 
people  interesting  and  amusing  everywhere,  and  met 
with  only  one  disappointment.  That  was  in  the  giving 
up  of  the  great  Miracle  Play  at  Ober-Ammergau,  on 
account  of  the  war,  just  before  we  reached  there.  It 
was  a  great  disappointment,  for  one  can  never  have 
another  chance,  and  every  one  who  saw  it  speaks  of  it 
as  very  wonderful. 

For  the  last  three  weeks  we  have  been  in  the  Tyrol. 


148     IN   THE   TYROL   AND  SWITZERLAND. 

I  like  the  people  immensely,  especially  in  south 
Tyrol;  they  seem  to  me  to  be  the  most  cheerful,  in- 
dustrious, hospitable  peasantry  in  Europe.  There  is 
a  pleasant  mixture  of  Italian  and  German  in  their 
character,  as  there  is  in  their  language,  look,  and 
dress.  They  have  very  pleasant  ways  of  doing  things. 
It  is  pleasant,  instead  of  the  horrible  gong  which 
bangs  away  at  Alliance  or  Crestline,  or  the  blowsy 
Irishman  who  howls  at  you,  "Dinner's  ready,"  to 
have  a  rosy,  neat  Tyrolese  girl,  as  she  puts  down 
a  dish  of  soup,  wish  you,  "  May  you  dine  well,"  and 
as  she  gives  you  a  candle  at  night  say,  "  May  God 
give  you  good  sleep,"  and  as  she  takes  your  fee  at 
leaving,  kiss  your  hand  and  wish  you  "lucky  jour- 
ney." To  be  sure,  the  soup  is  often  bad,  and  the 
bread  almost  always  horrible,  in  the  little  out  of  the 
way  inns,  but  their  dreadfulness  is  made  more  toler- 
able by  the  people's  pretty  ways.  It  is  embarrassing 
to  happen  to  sneeze  in  a  group  of  people ;  every  hat 
comes  off,  and  the  "  God  bless  you's  "  are  showered 
down  in  a  distressing  way. 

Off  here  in  the  hills,  we  hear  only  stray  rumors  of 
the  terrible  war.  The  great  battle  of  last  week,  with 
its  unexpected  defeat  of  the  French,  has  thrown  all 
Europe  into  tumult,  of  which  we  get  only  the  echoes. 
In  two  weeks  I  am  going  to  Paris.  What  I  shall  find 
there  I  do  not  know ;  unless  better  fortune  comes  to 
retrieve  him.  Napoleon  must  be  shaken,  and  probably 
overthrown.  There  is  a  sort  of  revolution  already  in 
Paris.  What  a  blessed  thing  for  us,  that  big  ocean 
between  us  and  aU  this  sort  of  thing !  I  wish  you 
could  be  here  this  Sunday  morning.  Cleveland  is 
pretty,  but  this  is  prettier.  A  lovely  old  valley,  with 
vineyards  at  its  bottom,  and  running  up  to  the  very 


BORMIO.  149 

tops  of  the  high  hills  that  shut  it  in.  Old  castles  and 
modern  chateaux  looking  down  from  every  side,  and 
in  the  midst  this  queer  old  town,  with  peasants  in 
their  picturesque  Sunday  clothes,  strolling  back  and 
forth  over  the  bridge  that  crosses  the  little  Adige,  and 
an  Italian  sky  and  sunlight  over  everything. 

What  a  good  time  we  had  in  Boston  those  last  two 
days.  Can't  you  come  on  in  September,  when  Arthur 
will  be  there  ?  I  hope  we  shall  have  many  Sundays 
together  as  that  last  in  June.  Good-by,  and  good 
luck  to  you  always.         Affectionately, 

Phillips. 

BoBMio,  August  21, 1870. 

Dear  Father,  —  I  have  received  a  letter  from 
you  this  week,  written  July  26,  the  second  that  has 
reached  me.  The  mails  seem  to  be  deranged,  and  it 
is  not  strange.  I  have  written  once  a  week  to  some 
of  you  ever  since  I  landed.  I  hope  long  before  this 
the  stream  has  begun  to  flow,  and  you  have  received 
my  letters  regularly.  This  week  we  have  been  finish- 
ing the  Tyrol.  From  Meran  to  Innsbruck,  where  we 
spent  a  day ;  then  over  the  Finstermuntz  and  Stelvio 
passes,  the  last  the  grandest  in  Europe,  till  we  came 
yesterday  evening  to  this  little  Italian  town,  as  pretty 
a  spot  as  there  is  to  find  anywhere.  We  have  had  a 
little  rain,  but  generally  good  weather,  and  a  splendid 
time  always. 

Hence  we  go  through  a  bit  of  Switzerland,  and 
gradually  work  up  to  Paris.  How  we  shall  get  there 
I  hardly  know,  or  what  we  shall  find  when  we  are 
there;  but  I  apprehend  no  difficulty,  and  certainly 
no  danger  for  a  couple  of  peaceful  travelers  like  our- 
selves.    We  are  getting  a  little  more  into  the  way  of 


150     IN  THE   TYROL  AND  SWITZERLAND, 

news  now,  and  can  regulate  our  movements  better. 
The  one  clear  opinion  seems  to  be,  that  somehow  the 
war  points  to  an  overthrow  and  end  of  Napoleon. 
The  disappointment  and  mortification  of  the  French 
at  their  great  defeat  seems  to  be  terrible,  and  the  state 
of  things  in  Paris  for  a  few  days  was  most  alarming. 
Things  are  quieter  now,  but  only  wait  for  the  next 
struggle,  which  must  be  a  frightful  one. 

We  meet  no  Americans ;  indeed,  we  have  not  seen 
a  person  we  know  for  three  weeks.  Probably,  as  we 
get  more  into  Switzerland,  we  shall  find  our  country- 
men there. 

So  old  No.  41  is  down,  and  the  new  store  is  going 
up.  It  made  me  quite  blue  to  hear  of  it;  the  world 
changes  sadly,  even  our  little  bit  of  it,  but  we  cer- 
tainly had  a  good  time  in  the  old  house  for  many 
years. 

To-morrow  I  hope  to  get  more  letters.  Three  weeks 
from  yesterday  I  sail  for  home ;  may  God  bless  and 
keep  you  all.  Phillips. 

Hotel  d'Obient,  Paris,  August  28, 1870. 

Dear  Mother,  —  We  are  at  last  in  Paris,  after  a 
long  week's  doubt  whether  we  should  be  able  to  get 
here.  We  arrived  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  after 
a  seventeen  hours'  ride  from  Geneva.  We  met  with 
no  detention  further  than  having  to  wait  here  and 
there  for  trains  loaded  with  cattle  and  provisions  for 
the  army.  No  Prussians  stopped  our  way,  and  though 
it  has  been  officially  announced  that  the  government 
has  taken  possession  of  the  road,  the  order  has  not  yet 
gone  into  effect,  and  passenger  trains  run  regularly 
through. 

We  have  seen  nothing  here  to-day  to  indicate  that 


PARIS.  151 

the  city  is  under  martial  law,  that  the  Prussians  are 
only  two  or  three  days  distant,  and  by  all  reports  in 
full  march  for  the  fortifications.  There  are  many  sol- 
diers about,  but  the  streets  are  emptier  and  stiUer 
than  I  have  ever  seen  them  in  Paris,  and  though  there 
may  be  a  row  at  any  point  at  any  moment,  there  cer- 
tainly was  never  a  more  peaceful  and  safe-looking 
city.  What  the  real  state  of  things  is,  it  is  very  hard 
to  tell.  That  the  Prussian  army  is  advancing  on 
Paris,  everybody  seems  to  believe.  The  French  papers 
say  that  it  is  a  movement  of  desperation.  The  Prus- 
sians call  it  the  march  of  a  victor.  Meanwhile,  the 
mystery  which  envelops  the  condition  and  intentions 
of  the  French  armies  at  Metz  and  Rheims  leaves  one 
utterly  in  the  dark.  Whatever  comes,  there  seems  no 
probability  of  any  danger  to  a  stranger  living  here, 
and  I  intend  now  to  stay  till  a  week  from  next  Thurs- 
day or  Friday,  when  I  shall  go  to  Brest,  to  sail  the 
following  Saturday.  What  we  may  have  a  chance  to 
see  in  the  mean  time  in  Paris,  we  cannot  say.  You 
will  hear  by  the  telegraph  before  you  get  this,  but  be 
sure  that  I  will  take  good  care  of  myself  and  shall  not 
be  in  any  danger. 

We  have  come  this  week  from  Bormio,  where  I 
wrote  last  Sunday,  by  Tirano,  an  Italian  town  in  the 
midst  of  its  vineyards,  over  the  Bernina  Pass  to  Pon- 
tresina,  in  the  midst  of  its  glaciers,  then  over  the 
Albula  Pass  to  Chur,  on  by  rail  to  Zurich,  thence 
to  Berne,  where  we  had  to  stop  to  get  our  passports 
viseed  by  the  French  minister  for  admission  into 
France,  thence  to  Geneva,  and  so  here.  This  ends 
our  mountain  work,  almost  seven  weeks  of  as  perfect 
and  successful  a  trip  as  we  could  ask.  Everything 
has  gone  well;  no  accident,  no  sickness,  and  scarcely 


152     IN   THE   TYROL   AND  SWITZERLAND. 

any  bad  weather.  I  am  thankful  I  came,  and  now  ten 
interesting  days  of  Paris  will  complete  the  journey, 
except  the  voyage  home  in  the  Yille  de  Paris,  which  I 
expect  to  enjoy  exceedingly.  Why  cannot  you  time 
your  Niagara  trip  so  as  to  meet  me  at  the  ship  on 
Wednesday,  the  21st,  or  Thursday,  the  22d,  of  Sep- 
tember. 

I  had  letters  at  Pontresina  from  you  and  father, 
which  did  me  good.  I  have  missed  a  number  of  your 
letters,  and  was  rejoiced  to  get  these.  I  also  had  one 
from  Arthur  about  his  ordination.  Please  write  him 
inunediately  that  I  wiU  gladly  come  to  Williamsport 
and  preach  the  old  sermon  any  time  in  October,  if  he 
can  arrange  it  so  that  the  whole  trip  can  come  in 
between  two  Sundays. 

It  is  cold  and  cheerless  here  to-day.  I  hope  we  are 
to  have  better  weather  for  the  gay  city,  which  is  bound 
to  be  gay,  even  if  it  is  besieged.     Love  to  all. 

Affectionately  always,  Phillips. 

Pabis,  September  5,  1870. 

Dear  William,  —  I  write  a  line,  which  will  prob- 
ably not  get  home  before  I  do,  but  I  may  be  detained, 
and  this  will  teU  you  that  I  am  well  and  coming. 
Yesterday  was  too  busy  and  exciting  a  day  to  write. 
As  the  telegraph  will  have  told  you,  there  was  a  blood- 
less revolution  and  we  went  to  bed  last  night  imder  a 
Kepublic.  I  saw  the  whole  thing,  and  was  much  in- 
terested in  seeing  how  they  make  a  Government  here. 
You  can  have  no  conception  of  the  excitement  in 
Paris  all  day. 

I  shall  leave  here  to-morrow  or  Wednesday  for 
Havre,  and  sail  thence  on  Friday  morning.  There 
has  been  some  difficulty  in  getting  out  of  Paris,  but  I 


PARIS.  153 

do  not  anticipate  any  this  week.     Still,  at  the  very 
last   there   may  be    something   to   hinder,  and   even 
should  the  Ville  de  Paris  arrive  without  me,  do  not 
be  worried,  but  know  that  I  will  turn  up  soon. 
Good-by,  love  to  all.     Vive  la  Republique! 

Phillips. 


SUMMER  m  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

1872. 

Steamship  Palmyra,  July  5,  1872. 

Dear  Father,  —  T}\(b  voyage  is  almost  over.  To- 
morrow morning  we  shall  be  at  Queenstown,  where 
I  think  we  shall  land,  to  go  by  Cork  and  Dublin  to 
London.  It  will  be  pleasanter  and  quicker,  and  prob- 
ably get  us  to  London  on  Sunday  morning.  (The 
ship  rolls  so  that  I  cannot  write  straight.)  We  have 
had  a  very  quiet  passage,  not  much  bright  weather, 
but  nothing  rough  to  speak  of.  Dull  skies  ahnost  all 
the  way,  with  a  good  deal  of  rain.  The  ship  is  a  very 
good  and  stanch  little  boat,  rather  slow,  but  still  mak- 
ing steady  headway,  and  as  comfortable  as  she  could 
be  with  her  rather  limited  accommodations.  Paine 
and  I  have  found  our  stateroom  exceedingly  comfort- 
able, and  with  a  few  pleasant  people  on  board,  the 
time  has  passed  briskly.  I  wonder  how  Fred  has  got 
along?  His  steamer  must  be  not  very  far  behind  us, 
and  I  expect  to  see  him  in  London  by  Tuesday.  I 
shall  be  there  with  him  until  Friday,  the  12th,  when 
we  sail  to  Christiania.  We  expect  to  reach  there  on 
the  16th,  and  then  shall  be  off  for  four  weeks  on  a 
country  trip  in  Norway.     Paine  will  go  with  me. 

.  .  .  On  Sunday,  we  had  a  sermon  from  an  English 
minister,  whose  presence  saved  me  from  preaching. 
It  was  a  lovely  day,  the  finest  we  have  had. 

The  voyage  has  been  a  very  pleasant  rest,  and  I 


LONDON.  155 

shall  be  ready  for  an  active  summer  when  we  land. 
Some  people  get  dreadfully  wearied  of  the  sea,  but  I 
find  every  moment  of  it  pleasant,  and  never  feel  in 
better  health  or  spirits  anywhere. 

I  hope  that  you  are  going  to  have  a  pleasant 
summer.  Do  spend  a  good  part  of  it  in  writing  to 
me.  I  shall  look  anxiously  for  my  budget  of  letters 
every  week,  care  of  Jay  Cooke,  McCulloch  &  Co., 
London. 

I  will  write  again  from  London  after  I  meet  Fred. 
My  love  to  mother  and  all.  Tell  me  what  they  are 
doing,  and  tell  them  all  to  write. 

Phillips. 

London,  July  9,  1872. 

Dear  Mothee,  —  I  will  begin  a  letter  to  you,  now 
that  I  have  a  leisure  moment,  while  I  am  waiting  for 
Fred,  who  reported  himself  at  the  hotel  this  morning 
when  I  was  out,  and  has  not  yet  returned.  So  he  has 
arrived,  but  I  have  not  seen  him  yet.  I  wrote  to 
father  just  before  we  landed  from  the  Palmyra.  We 
went  to  Cork  and  spent  some  hours  there,  and  drove 
out  to  Blarney  Castle,  through  some  of  the  loveliest 
country  that  you  can  imagine.  It  was  a  glorious  day, 
and  we  enjoyed  it  hugely ;  then  we  took  the  train  to 
Dublin,  crossed  the  Irish  Channel  to  Holyhead,  a  beau- 
tiful sail  of  five  hours,  and  then  a  long  night's  ride  by 
rail  brought  us  to  London,  where  we  arrived  at  six 
o'clock  on  Sunday  morning. 

Sunday  I  went  to  hear  Stopford  Brooke,  at  St. 
James's  Chapel  in  the  morning,  and  Dean  Stanley 
at  Westminster  Abbey  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day.  Monday  morning  we  went  down  town 
to   the   bankers,  and   then   to  the   picture   galleries, 


156        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

and  in  the  afternoon  drove  in  Hyde  Park  to  see  the 
swells.  We  engaged  passage  on  the  Oder  for  Chris- 
tiania,  which  sails  next  Friday  morning.  We  shall 
arrive  there  on  Monday  evening,  the  15th.  We  also 
engaged  passage  on  the  Thuringia  from  Hamburg 
for  New  York  on  September  11.  To-day  we  have 
been  sight-seeing,  —  the  great  South  Kensington  Mu- 
seum and  the  International  Exhibition  with  the  new 
Memorial,  which  has  just  been  opened,  having  been 
built  by  Queen  Victoria  in  memory  of  Prince  Albert. 
It  is  a  very  gorgeous  and  beautiful  affair. 

Wednesday  Evening,  July   10,  1872. 

Just  here  Frederick  turned  up,  and  from  that  time 
to  this  I  have  had  his  company.  He  is  well,  has 
enjoyed  his  voyage  very  much,  and  takes  to  traveling 
like  a  fish.  He  and  I  have  scoured  London  to-day, 
called  on  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  examined 
the  British  Museum  and  Westminster  Abbey,  visited 
Hyde  Park,  and  this  evening  we  have  been  to  a  con- 
cert at  the  splendid  new  Albert  Hall.  He  means  if 
possible  to  return  with  us  in  the  Thuringia,  but  there 
is  some  uncertainty  about  getting  staterooms.  We 
shall  know  in  a  week  or  so. 

So  the  two  great  family  trips  are  launched  for  the 
summer,  and  promise  to  go  on  well.  You  shall  hear 
from  point  to  point  how  we  are  faring.  I  do  not  feel 
as  if  these  few  days  in  London  were  really  a  part  of  it, 
and  shall  not  think  that  we  are  fairly  beginning  until 
we  are  aboard  the  steamer  for  Christiania  to-morrow 
night.  London  seems  too  familiar,  and,  with  all  its 
strangeness,  a  little  too  much  like  home  to  be  really 
abroad.  It  has  grown  enormously  since  I  was  here  in 
1865,  and  is  simply  too  big  to  know  much  about  in 


LILLEHAMMER.  157 

two  or  three  years,  so  that  two  or  three  days  in  it 
go  for  very  little. 

I  am  sorry  to  see  what  hot  weather  you  have  been 
having  in  Boston.  I  hope  it  is  only  the  working  off 
of  heat  for  the  whole  summer,  and  that  you  will 
have  it  cool  the  rest  of  the  time.  Here  the  weather 
is  delicious,  —  bright,  cool,  sunshiny  days  that  quite 
disappoint  one's  ordinary  expectations  of  London. 

Already  I  begin  to  feel  how  good  it  will  be  to 
get  home. 

LiLLEHAMMEB,  NORWAY,  July  16,  1872. 

Dear  "William,  —  I  have  written  to  you  in  the 
course  of  our  correspondence  from  many  queer  places, 
but  perhaps  this  to-night  is  the  queerest  of  them  all. 
It  is  the  neatest,  triggest,  cosiest  little  Norwegian  inn, 
one  day's  journey  from  Christiania,  just  set  in  among 
the  mountains  at  the  head  of  lake  Mjosen.  The  peo- 
ple in  the  courtyard  under  the  windows  are  jabbering 
Norwegian  and  getting  the  horses  ready  for  our  cari- 
oles,  which  set  out  to-morrow  morning  at  half  past 
five.  It  is  half  past  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
broad  daylight,  so  that  a  candle  would  be  an  absurdity. 
Last  night  at  Christiania,  I  literally  read  a  letter  in 
the  street  at  eleven  o'clock,  as  you  would  at  noon  in 
Boston. 

But  I  must  go  back.  Last  Thursday  evening  I 
left  Frederick  in  London,  and  went  on  board  the 
steamer  Oder  for  Christiania,  which  sailed  the  next 
morning  at  four  o'clock.  We  had  a  pleasant  little 
voyage  of  three  days  and  a  half  across  the  North  Sea 
and  up  the  Skager  Rack,  touching  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing at  Christiansand,  and  arriving  on  Monday  at 
Christiania.     The  steamer  was  good,  the  sea  smooth. 


158        SUMMER   IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

and  all  went  very  pleasantly.  The  sail  along  the  Nor- 
wegian coast  and  up  the  Christiania  Fiord  was  very 
beautiful.  At  Christiania,  which  is  a  very  pretty, 
pleasant  place,  we  spent  yesterday,  got  our  carioles, 
which  are  the  j oiliest-looking  traps  you  can  imagine, 
this  morning  took  them  on  the  train,  and  then  on  the 
boat  upon  the  lake  to  this  village.  To-morrow  morn- 
ing we  mount  them  for  our  first  drive  into  the  country. 
I  wish  that  you  could  see  us  pass.  Much  more,  I 
wish  there  were  a  third  cariole,  and  you  were  in  it. 

I  wonder  how  Fred  comes  on.  He  seemed  to  be 
having  a  good  time.  I  went  with  him  to  several  of 
the  great  sights  of  London,  which  he  appeared  to  en- 
joy, and  was  in  good  health  and  spirits.  I  hope  he 
will  find  some  companion  for  the  Continent,  for  I  am 
afraid  he  will  be  a  little  homesick  sometimes,  if  he 
does  not.  He  hopes  to  return  with  us  in  the  Thurin- 
gia  from  Havre,  September  14. 

Will  you  do  something  for  me  ?  Will  you  go  and 
see  Mr.  James  T.  Fields,  and  ask  him  (as  I  shall  be 
rather  later  than  I  expected  in  getting  home)  to  put 
my  lecture  on  English  Literature  as  late  in  the  course 
as  possible  ?  —  at  the  very  end  if  he  can.  I  think  he 
will  have  no  trouble  in  doing  it. 

No  letters  from  you  yet.  I  hope  many  are  on  the 
way,  but  we  shall  not  get  them  till  we  come  to  Bergen 
some  time  next  week ;  but  do  keep  on  writing,  and 
tell  all  the  news,  little  and  great.  I  hope  you  are 
having  a  pleasant  summer.   .    .    . 

Affectionately, 

Phillips. 


AAK.  159 

Aak,  Norway,  July  22,  1872. 

Dear  Father,  —  We  have  been  spending  Sunday 
at  this  remote  little  place  in  the  mountains,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Romsdaal  Valley,  which  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  gorges  in  Norway.  We  came  here 
in  a  three  days'  journey  from  Lillehammer,  whence  I 
wrote  to  William  last  Wednesday.  The  traveling  is 
very  odd.  We  have  our  own  carioles,  which  we  took 
with  us  from  Christiania,  having  hired  them  for  a 
month.  In  these  we  travel  about  fifty  miles  a  day. 
The  cariole  is  a  sort  of  sulky,  something  like  a 
country  doctor's  chaise,  with  just  room  for  one  person 
and  a  place  to  strap  on  a  valise  behind.  The  roads 
have  stations  every  ten  miles  or  so,  where  the  people 
are  obliged  to  furnish  you  a  change  of  horse,  which 
you  take  on  to  the  next  station.  A  small  boy  goes 
perched  on  the  baggage  behind  to  bring  the  horse 
back.  In  this  way  we  are  always  changing  horses. 
I  have  driven  some  twenty  or  thirty  already,  mostly 
strong,  willing  little  brutes,  who  make  very  good  time 
and  do  not  seem  to  mind  my  overweight.  The  road 
has  been  very  beautiful;  last  evening's  ride,  espe- 
cially, was  most  magnificent,  through  the  gorge  of 
Komsdaal.  There  is  nothing  in  Switzerland  like  it. 
Our  weather  has  been  generally  excellent,  with  occa- 
sional showers  which  have  not  hurt  us,  nor  delayed  us 
much.  It  is  a  land  where  it  makes  not  the  slightest 
difference  when  you  travel,  for  it  is  broad  daylight 
all  night,  being  literally  light  enough  to  read  easily  in 
the  open  air  at  midnight.  The  only  trouble  is  to  get 
to  sleep  at  night  with  the  daylight  in  the  room, 
and  to  keep  asleep  in  the  morning. 

This  morning  we  walked  about  three  miles  to  a 
Norwegian  country  church,  and  attended  service  there. 


160        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

It  was  very  interesting.  The  little  chiircli  was 
crowded  and  the  service  was  full  of  spirit.  The  ser- 
mon was  dreadfully  long,  at  least  to  us  who  listened 
to  it  as  foreigners,  and  did  not  understand  a  word. 
After  service  there  was  a  baptism  of  two  babies,  and 
then  the  catechising  of  the  girls  and  boys  of  the 
parish  —  funny  little  folks  they  were  !  The  people  all 
belong  to  the  Lutheran  church,  which  is  the  Estab- 
lislied  Church  of  the  Kingdom.  They  are  a  most 
thrifty,  decent,  poverty-stricken  people,  perfectly 
honest,  and  not  at  all  handsome. 

I  wish  that  you  could  see  the  view  as  I  look  out  of 
my  window.  The  vaUey  is  completely  shut  in  by 
mountains  of  the  most  gigantic  size,  and  splendid 
in  their  shapes.  A  beautiful  green  river  runs  down 
through  it,  and  the  fields  in  the  bottom  of  the  vaUey 
are  green  and  rich.  A  pair  of  carioles  has  just  driven 
up  to  the  little  inn  door,  and  the  people  are  chat- 
tering in  Norse  about  rooms  and  suppers  in  the 
most  excited  way. 

To-morrow  morning  we  take  a  little  steamer  very 
early  to  go  to  Molde,  down  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
fiords  ;  then  we  shall  keep  down  the  coast  to  Bergen, 
exploring  the  fiords  as  we  go  along;  from  Bergen 
back  across  the  country  to  Christiania,  where  we 
shall  be  in  about  three  weeks  ;  then  to  Stocldiolm, 
St.  Petersburg,  Moscow,  Copenhagen,  Hamburg ;  and 
then  home.  Nothing  from  Fred;  you  have  heard 
from  him  of  course.     Love  to  aU. 

Most  affectionately  yours,  Phillips. 


STEAMER  FJALIR.  161 

Steamer  Fjamb,  on  the  Nord  Fiord,  Norway, 
July  25,  1872. 

Dear  Mother,  —  It  is  a  rainy  forenoon  on  a  steam- 
boat, and  there  is  nothing  pleasanter  than  to  sit  in  the 
little  cabin  and  write  my  weekly  letter  to  you,  although 
it  is  before  its  time.  We  are  on  our  way  to  Bergen, 
running  down  one  of  the  countless  fiords  that  cut  up 
the  coast  of  Norway  into  slices.  Last  Sunday  after- 
noon, I  wrote  to  father  from  Aak,  at  the  foot  of  the 
Romsdaal  Valley.  Monday  morning,  we  drove  in  our 
carioles  down  to  the  head  of  the  Molde  Fiord,  and 
there,  carioles  and  all,  went  on  a  boat,  and  sailed, 
in  the  midst  of  the  grandest  scenery,  to  Molde,  where 
we  stopped  a  couple  of  hours  and  dined  on  salmon 
and  lobster,  which  are  about  the  only  things  that 
grow  along  this  coast.  Both  are  superb.  That  after- 
noon, we  sailed  along  the  coast  to  Aalsund,  a  little 
village  with  a  most  lovely  situation,  which  is  famous 
for  nothing  except  the  cod -liver  oil  which  they  make 
there.  We  passed  the  night  in  short  beds,  and  the 
next  day  sailed  up  the  Stor  Fiord  and  its  branch,  the 
Geiranger  Fiord,  which  is  called  the  grandest  in 
Norway.  It  is  certainly  magnificent.  The  narrow 
arm  of  the  sea,  with  bright  green  water,  is  shut  in 
between  perpendicular  cliffs  of  granite,  two  or  three 
thousand  feet  high,  over  which  countless  waterfalls 
come  tumbling  down  in  every  conceivable  shape.  The 
stillness  and  wildness  is  wonderfully  impressive.  We 
spent  that  night  at  a  little  group  of  fishermen's  huts, 
and  slept  in  a  schoolhouse,  because  the  inn,  which  only 
has  six  beds,  was  full.  We  called  on  the  Pastor  of 
the  place,  and  spent  an  hour  with  him.  He  is  the 
only  educated  man  of  the  whole  region,  and  was  very 
hospitable  and   conversible,  speaking  very  tolerable 


162        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

English.  Yesterday  morning,  we  put  the  wheels  on 
our  carioles  again,  and  drove  all  day  across  the  coun- 
try, through  magnificent  scenery,  to  a  little  inn  called 
Faleide,  on  this  Fiord,  where  last  night  we  took  the 
boat  for  Bergen.  The  cabin  is  full  of  Norwegians, 
talking  their  unintelligible  tongue.  There  is  one  Ger- 
man family  from  Hamburg,  who  are  pleasant  people, 
and  with  whom,  between  their  English  and  our 
German,  we  get  along  very  well.  To-morrow  noon 
we  reach  Bergen,  and  there  I  hope  to  get  my  first 
letters  from  you  all.  After  a  day  or  two,  we  start 
again  into  the  country,  and  spend  two  weeks  more 
before  we  come  back  to  Christiania.  About  the  12th 
of  August  we  leave  Christiania  for  Sweden,  going  to 
Stockholm.  On  the  22d  we  go  to  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow,  returning  the  first  week  in  September.  We 
sail  from  St.  Petersburg  by  Lubec  to  Copenhagen, 
and  thence  go  down  to  Hamburg  and  take  the  Thu- 
ringia,  either  there  on  the  11th,  or  at  Havre  on  the 
14th.  So  all  goes  well.  I  am  having  a  splendid 
time.  This  rain,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  clear  up  to- 
morrow, and  with  much  love  to  all,  I  am  always 
Affectionately  yours, 

Phillips. 

Steamer  between  Bergen  and  Christiania, 
July  27,  1872. 

Since  I  wrote  the  inclosed  sheet,  our  plans  have 
chansred.  .  .  .  Paine  has  been  called  home.  We  are 
now  on  our  way  to  Christiania,  and  he  will  stop  on  his 
way  at  Christiansand,  go  thence  to  Hamburg,  and  so 
home  by  next  week's  steamer.  I  shall  go  to  Chris- 
tiania, to  take  back  our  carioles  and  close  up  things 
there.     I  am  not  quite  sure  what  I  shall  do  after- 


STOCKHOLM,  163 

wards ;  probably  go  to  Sweden,  and  thence  cross  into 
Russia,  and  come  home  by  way  of  some  of  the  north- 
ern German  cities. 

We  are  having  quite  a  royal  progress  to-day.  Prince 
Oscar,  brother  of  the  king,  is  on  board,  and  at  every 
town  where  we  stop,  there  is  a  boisterous  welcome  and 
farewell.     Good-by  again,  and  write  often. 

Hotel  Rydberg,  Stockholm,  August  4, 1872. 

Dear  William,  —  The  stream  of  communication 
this  summer  seems  to  flow  all  one  way.  Since  father's 
letter,  dated  just  a  month  ago  to-day,  there  is  not  a 
word  from  my  beloved  family,  or  anybody  else  in 
America.  I  hope  they  are  well,  but  either  they  have 
not  written,  or  Jay  Cooke  is  faithless,  or  I  have 
been  running  about  too  fast  for  letters  to  catch  me. 
I  hope  Fred  has  been  more  fortunate  than  I.  Here  I 
am  now  in  Stockholm,  one  of  the  nicest,  brightest, 
gayest  looking  cities  I  have  ever  seen.  I  am  very 
much  delighted  with  it.  It  runs  all  about  over  a 
quantity  of  islands,  in  Venetian  sort  of  style,  and  little 
bits  of  steamboats  go  racing  back  and  forth.  The  peo- 
ple are  bright  and  good-looking,  and  there  are  gardens 
and  cafes  everywhere.  Friday  evening,  I  went  to  the 
Deer  Park  to  a  concert,  and  the  whole  scene  was  as 
pretty  as  anything  in  Paris  or  Vienna.  After  I  wrote 
last  week,  I  came  back  to  Christiania,  and  thence 
sailed  down  to  Gottenburg,  and  thence  by  the  Gotha 
canal  here.  It  was  a  lovely  day  on  the  canal,  and  the 
scenery  was  very  pretty.  Yesterday,  I  went  to  Upsala, 
where  is  the  great  Swedish  university,  the  old  cathe- 
dral, and  the  oldest  relics  of  their  history.  Under 
three  great  mounds,  their  Odin,  Thor,  and  Freia  are 
said  to  be  buried. 


164        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

To-morrow  morning,  I  am  going  off  to  Gottland, 
where  there  are  some  strange  old  relics  of  architec- 
ture, and  the  whole  place  is  said  to  be  very  picturesque 
and  curious.  It  is  a  trip  of  two  or  three  days,  and 
then  I  come  back  here.  After  that,  probably  to  Rus- 
sia, where  I  expect  to  arrive  next  Sunday. 

There  are  very  few  Americans  in  these  parts,  —  a 
good  many  English,  and  lots  of  Swedes.  I  like  the 
Swedes  very  much.  They  are  brighter  and  more 
cheerful  than  the  Norwegians,  and  very  kind  and  will- 
ing to  oblige.  The  country  seems  prosperous  and 
happy.  The  environs  of  Stockholm  are  beautiful. 
Come  here,  and  look  at  this  pretty  town,  when  you 
bring  Mary  and  Agnes  to  Europe. 

I  hope  they  are  well,  and  that  you  are  not  having 
the  absurdly  hot  weather  with  which  you  began  the 
summer.  Already,  we  are  within  sight  of  the  end 
of  it.  How  strange  it  will  seem  to  be  settled  down 
again  to  the  old  round  for  another  winter.  Paine  is 
on  his  voyage  home  by  this  time.  I  suppose  you 
may  see  him  before  this  reaches  you.  If  you  have 
not  written  to  me,  pray  write,  and  if  you  have  written, 
write  again,  Phillips. 

Abo,  Finland,  August  10, 1872. 
Dear  Father,  —  Did  you  ever  get  a  letter  from 
Finland  ?  If  not,  then  here  comes  your  first.  I  write 
in  the  sincere  belief  that  I  am  answering  some  letters 
of  yours,  although  I  have  not  received  them.  Some- 
how, I  have  missed  everything  since  your  letters  of 
July  4th.  I  hope  nothing  important  has  happened 
since  that  time.  If  there  has,  I  do  not  know  where  I 
shall  hear  of  it.  Perhaps  at  St.  Petersburg,  whither 
I  am  bound  now.     But  I  must  wait  patiently.     I  left 


ABO.  165 

Stockholm  yesterday  morning,  in   the   steamer  Con- 
stantin,  at  two  o'clock. 

Steamers  have  an  uncomfortable  habit  of  starting 
at  that  hour  all  over  these  parts.  The  boat  is  excel- 
lent; all  sorts  of  languages,  Russian,  Swedish,  Fin- 
nish, French,  and  German,  are  chattering  around  me. 
There  are  also  three  or  four  Englishmen  on  board. 
To-day's  sail  has  been  exquisite,  wandering  through 
the  islands  of  which  this  part  of  the  Baltic  is  full, 
with  views  continually  changing,  and  all  pretty.  At 
five  this  afternoon  we  came  to  Abo,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  and  there  we  lie  to-night. 
The  steamers  always  lie  by  until  two  in  the  morning. 
To-morrow,  we  wind  up  the  gulf  among  the  islands. 
To-morrow  night  at  Helsingfors,  Sunday  night  at 
Vyborg,  and  Monday  noon,  the  12th,  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  Fins  are  a  good,  dull,  rude-looking  people. 
We  went  ashore  this  afternoon  and  saw  the  strange 
old  town.  Nothing  could  be  more  foreign  or  pictur- 
esque. It  was  odd  to  find  one's  self  for  the  first  time 
in  the  Czar's  dominions,  but  all  his  folks  were  very 
civil  and  seemed  glad  to  see  us. 

I  made  this  week  a  very  interesting  two-days'  trip 
to  the  old  town  of  Wisby  and  the  Island  of  Gothland. 
It  was  a  twelve  hours'  sail  down  the  Baltic  at  night. 
In  the  morning,  we  reached  the  island,  and  saw  the 
old  waUed  town,  which  was  once  a  place  of  great  trade 
and  importance,  but  now  in  decay.  The  most  inter- 
esting things  in  it  are  a  dozen  old  ruined  Gothic 
churches,  some  of  them  quite  unique  in  architecture, 
and  aU  showing  the  taste  and  wealth  of  the  old  times. 
At  present,  the  island  is  something  of  a  siunmer  resort 
for  Stockholm  people. 

We  took  a  long  drive  back  into  the  country,  through 


166        SUMMER  TN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

rich  farms  and  pleasant  hills,  the  whole  a  picture  of 
quiet,  primitive,  pastoral  simplicity,  which  was  very 
attractive.  Another  night's  sail  brought  us  back  to 
Stockholm,  which  is  a  most  beautiful  city,  and  after 
another  day  there,  I  sailed  on  this  slow  and  pleas- 
ant cruise  for  St.  Petersburg. 

Since  Paine  left  me,  two  weeks  ago,  I  am  alone,  but 
meet  companions  often  from  point  to  point.  There 
are  almost  no  Americans  in  these  parts.  It  seems 
a  long  way  from  home.  I  shall  spend  two  or  three 
weeks  in  Russia,  going  to  Moscow,  and  perhaps  to 
Nijni-Novgorod ;  then  to  Berlin,  Lubeck,  and  Copen- 
hagen, and  so  to  Hamburg,  whence  I  sail  for  New 
York,  on  September  11.  .  .  .  After  you  get  this,  di- 
rect your  letters  to  Hamburg.  I  shall  get  them 
sooner. 

I  am  very  well  and  having  a  first-rate  time.  Have 
not  had  a  hot  day  this  summer.  I  hope  you  are  all 
well  and  happy,  and  with  much  love  to  all,  I  am 
most  sincerely  your  son,  Phillips. 

Moscow,  August  18,  1872. 

Dear  Mother,  —  Last  Sunday,  when  I  wrote  to 
father,  we  were  crossing  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  making 
for  St.  Petersburg.  We  passed  the  great  fortifications 
at  Cronstadt,  and  landed  at  the  city  Sunday  even- 
ing ;  the  next  three  days  I  spent  in  seeing  the  great 
capital.  Everytliing  in  it  is  on  the  most  enormous 
scale.  Its  palaces,  the  biggest  and  most  gorgeous; 
its  churches,  the  richest;  its  squares,  the  most  mag- 
nificent in  Europe.  Its  great  church  of  St.  Isaak 
is  a  wonder  of  marble,  gold,  and  jewels.  It  cost 
135,000,000,  or  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  the 
new  Trinity.     The  picture  gaUery  is  one  of  the  great- 


MOSCOW,  167 

est  of  the  world,  with  some  pictures  one  cannot  see 
anywhere  else.  The  whole  country  about  the  city  is 
full  of  magnificent  palaces,  with  splendid  grounds  and 
fountains,  where  one  goes  in  the  afternoon,  and  hears 
bands  play  in  the  evening,  and  takes  a  quiet  sail  on 
the  Neva  back  to  St.  Petersburg,  with  the  moon 
shining  on  the  golden  domes.  What  do  you  think 
of  that? 

Grand  as  St.  Petersburg  is,  it  is  only  the  vestibule 
to  Moscow.  You  come  here  by  rail,  a  long,  dreary 
ride  of  twenty  hours,  with  poor  sleeping  cars,  for  which 
you  pay  fifteen  dollars.  This  Russia  is  the  most  ex- 
pensive country  I  have  ever  traveled  in.  But  when 
you  get  here,  you  are  in  the  midst  of  picturesqueness 
such  as  you  can  see  nowhere  else.  Think  of  three 
hundred  domes  and  spires,  all  different,  all  gold  or 
silver,  blue  or  green,  with  golden  stars,  crosses,  and 
crescents,  and  blazing  under  the  intense  sun  that 
beats  down  on  this  plain.  Yesterday  afternoon,  I 
drove  out  to  a  hill  near  the  city,  the  hill  from  which 
Napoleon  first  saw  it,  and  the  view,  as  it  lay  glittering 
in  the  afternoon  sun,  was  like  fairyland.  Then  you 
step  inside  a  church  or  palace,  and  it  is  all  brilliant 
with  gold ;  barbarous  in  taste,  but  very  gorgeous.  The 
streets  are  full  of  splendor  and  squalidness,  all  mixed 
together.  First  the  grand  coach  and  splendid  horses 
of  a  nobleman,  and  then  the  wretched  procession  of 
convicts,  chained  together,  men  and  women,  starting 
off  on  their  long  journey  to  Siberia.  Everything  has 
the  look  of  semi-civilization,  exceedingly  interesting, 
though  not  attractive ;  but  a  country  with  some  vast 
future  before  it,  certainly. 

I  hope  you  are  all  well,  but  I  have  not  heard  yet, 
nor  shall  I  for  a  couple  of  weeks.     I  have  been  very 


168        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 

unfortunate,  but  your  letters  at  the  last  must  reach  me 
at  Copenhagen.  The  last  tidings  I  had  were  dated 
only  a  week  after  I  sailed.  It  has  detracted  much 
from  the  pleasure  of  my  journey,  which  otherwise  has 
been  very  delightful.  The  weather  here  is  exquisite. 
I  see  no  Americans  and  few  English.  I  have  been 
with  an  Englishman,  but  leave  him  to-morrow  to  go  to 
the  Great  Fair  at  Nijni-Novgorod,  where  we  have  only 
the  company  of  a  French  interpreter.  Thence,  in  the 
last  part  of  the  week,  I  begin  to  turn  my  feet  west- 
ward; next  Sunday,  I  shall  probably  write  to  you 
from  somewhere  outside  of  Russia.  Love  to  all. 
Yours  affectionately, 

Phillips. 


Hotel  du  Nord,  BERiJif, 

August  25,  1872. 

Dear  William,  —  I  remember  very  well  writing  a 
letter  to  you  from  tliis  very  hotel  seven  years  ago. 
It  was  about  the  beginning  of  my  first  trip  to  Europe. 
There  have  been  several  changes  since  then,  and  I 
hope  for  the  better.  I  reached  here  only  this  morn- 
ing, and  find  Berlin  the  same  bright,  cheerful-looking, 
great  city  I  remember  it.  It  has  gi'own  and  improved 
immensely.  Everywhere  you  feel  that  you  are  in  the 
midst  of  a  very  great,  strong,  seK-assured  Empire. 
Prussia  is  certainly  the  biggest  thing  in  Europe  to-day. 
But  Russia  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at,  either. 

I  was  at  Moscow  when  I  wrote  last.  From  there  I 
went  on  a  trip  to  Nijni-Novgorod,  on  the  Volga,  where 
the  great  annual  Fair  is  being  held.  It  is  about 
twelve  hours  from  Moscow,  and  quite  in  the  centre  of 
Russia,  so  that  the  journey  there  and  back  gives  one  a 
chance  to  see  much  of  the  country.     Vast  numbers  of 


BERLIN.  169 

people  gather  every  year  from  the  east  and  west,  and  set 
up  a  whole  city  of  temporary  shops  for  three  months, 
on  a  low,  sandy  point  of  land,  at  the  meeting  of 
the  Volga  and  the  Oka.  The  crowd  is  most  curious 
and  picturesque.  Persians,  Tartars,  Armenians,  Chi- 
nese, Caucasians,  Jews,  and  Europeans  of  every  sort ; 
with  all  their  various  goods  —  teas,  skins,  fruits,  car- 
pets, great  miles  of  iron  from  Siberia,  and  wheat  from 
the  Black  Sea,  —  every  language  and  dress  you  can 
picture.  All  this  goes  on  for  three  months,  and  then 
they  shut  up  shop  and  go  home,  and  the  place  is  de- 
serted until  the  next  year. 

The  Fair  was  in  full  blast  this  week,  and  I  saw  it 
to  good  advantage.  Then  I  came  back  to  Moscow, 
spent  another  day,  and  saw  the  wonders  of  the  Krem- 
lin again.  Then  to  St.  Petersburg  and  to  Warsaw, 
where  I  had  a  day,  and  a  very  pleasant  one.  It  is  a 
bright,  live  city,  with  fine  buildings  and  beautiful  pal- 
aces and  gardens.  I  liked  what  I  saw  of  the  Poles 
very  much  indeed.  Yesterday  I  left  Warsaw  at  three, 
and  reached  here  this  morning  at  five.  I  went  to 
church  this  morning  and  heard  a  very  poor  sermon. 
I  hope  you  had  a  better  one  in  Trinity.  Now  I  am 
going  to  Lubeck  and  thence  to  Copenhagen.  I  sail 
from  Hamburg  two  weeks  from  next  Wednesday.  .  .  . 
I  shall  be  glad  to  be  at  home  and  at  work  again,  though 
very  sorry  to  break  off  this  pleasant  life.  .  .  . 

Is  it  really  true  that  Greeley  stands  a  good  chance 
for  th3  Presidency  ? 

My  kind  love  to  Mary,  Agnes,  and  all  at  home. 
Thanks  for  the  letters  which  you  have  written. 

Yours  always,  Phillips. 


170        SUMMER  IN  NORTHERN  EUROPE. 


Hamburg,  September  1, 1872. 

Dear  Father, — I  feel  as  if  I  owed  you  and  mo- 
ther about  a  dozen  letters  to-day,  for  since  last  Sun- 
day I  have  been  wonderfully  blessed  in  the  way  of 
hearing  from  you.  At  Copenhagen  I  received  eight- 
een letters,  the  accumulation  of  the  summer,  and  now 
I  understand  aU  about  you  and  your  doings  up  to 
August  16.  You  must  have  had  a  frightful  sum- 
mer, with  the  heat  and  the  thunder-storms.  I  am 
sorry  for  the  discomfort  you  must  have  suffered,  but 
glad  of  the  philosophy  with  which  you  seem  to  have 
borne  it. 

I  passed  a  day  in  Berlin,  and  then  went  to  Lu- 
beck,  where  I  stayed  another  day.  It  is  a  picturesque 
old  place,  the  most  old-fashioned  town  in  northern 
Europe,  and  I  had  a  good  time  there.  Then  a  pleas- 
ant sail  of  fifteen  hours  carried  me  to  Copenhagen, 
where  I  spent  three  days.  It  is  full  of  interest.  The 
Museum  of  Northern  Antiquities  is  something  quite 
unique.  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Winthrop  to  the  Di- 
rector, Professor  W ,  but  found  that  he  had  gone 

away  to  the  Archaeological  Congress  at  Brussels,  but 
the  letter  secured  me  a  reception  by  one  of  his  assist- 
ants, who  went  carefully  with  me  through  the  museum. 
I  found  also  in  Copenhagen  a  gentleman  with  whom  I 
crossed  in  the  Hammonia  two  years  ago,  who  was  very 
hospitable,  and  so  I  enjoyed  the  place  very  much.  I 
bought  one  or  two  pieces  of  old  carved  furniture, 
which  will  be  at  home  by  and  by.  One  day  I  went 
to  Elsinore,  and  saw  the  ships  in  the  Straits,  and 
walked  on  the  platform  where  Hamlet  met  the  ghost. 
The  great  Exhibition  is  open  at  Copenhagen,  and  I 
saw  the  King,  aU  the  royal  people,  and  the  Princess 


HAMBURG,  171 

of  Wales.  Last  night  I  came  thence  by  rail  and 
boat  to  this  great  town.  Among  my  letters  was  one 
from  Fred,  who  wanted  me  to  meet  him  in  Paris, 
and  I  think  I  shall  do  so.  I  have  thought  of  going 
back  to  Berlin  for  the  great  review  next  Saturday,  but 
I  shall  give  that  up,  a  noble  sacrifice  to  fraternal  affec- 
tion. I  shall  go  by  way  of  the  Rhine,  and  next  Sun- 
day Frederick  and  I  will  be  at  the  H6tel  du  Louvre, 
Paris.  Two  weeks  from  to-day  we  shall  be  on  the 
Thuringia.  ... 

Your  affectionate  son,  Phillips. 


FROM  LONDON  TO  VENICE. 
1874. 

Albemarle  Hotel,  London, 
Sunday  morning,  July  19,  1874. 

Dear  William,  —  This  Sunday  morning,  your  at- 
mosphere must  be  a  great  deal  clearer  than  the  smoky 
London  air  in  which  I  am  looking  out,  through  which 
I  can  just  tell  that  it  is  a  very  pleasant  day.  I  hope 
you  will  have  a  good  Simday.  .  .  . 

Your  letter,  which  came  day  before  yesterday,  was 
the  first  that  reached  me,  and  was  a  most  welcome  be- 
ginning to  the  new  spell  of  correspondence.  It  seems 
curious  to  staii;  it  off  again  for  the  fourth  time.  This 
trip,  so  far,  has  been  a  little  different  from  the  others. 
I  have  seen  something  more  of  people  and  received 
more  hospitality  than  when  I  have  been  in  England  be- 
fore. Everybody  has  been  most  cordial  and  civil.  .  .  . 
What  I  have  seen  have  been  mostly  clerical  circles,  but 
in  some  ways  clergymen  and  laymen  are  more  mixed 
up  and  have  more  common  interests  here  than  in 
America.  For  instance,  all  are  excited  now  about  the 
Public  Worship  Bill.  They  talk  of  it  at  dinner,  and 
write  of  it  in  the  newspapers  in  a  way  that  much  sur- 
prises us,  who  ordinarily  leave  such  things  to  our 
Bishop  and  the  people  who  go  to  the  General  Conven- 
tion. It  seems  now  as  if  the  Bill  would  become  a  law, 
and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it  can  do  much  good. 

I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  London  over  again  with 


MORLAIX.  173 

Arthur.  There  are  many  things  in  it  that  never  tire, 
and  the  great  city  seems  to  grow  more  and  more  enor- 
mous every  time  we  come.  Last  Monday  we  went  all 
over  Westminster  Abbey  with  Dean  Stanley,  who 
knows  it  as  well  as  I  know  the  Technological  Hall. 
It  was  a  very  interesting  morning,  and  I  wished  you 
were  there.  I  preached  there  the  evening  before  to 
such  a  crowd,  and  under  such  a  roof,  and  among  such 
columns  and  monuments  as  one  does  not  often  see. 
On  Tuesday  I  went  to  the  annual  dinner  of  the  sing- 
ing people  of  the  Abbey,  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
where  we  did  all  kinds  of  queer  old  English  customs, 
sang,  and  made  speeches  till  ever  so  late.  I  was  the 
only  one  of  the  preachers  of  the  year  present,  and  had 
to  speak  for  them  all.  Think  of  speaking  for  Bishops 
and  Archbishops!  .  .  . 

On  Friday,  Arthur  and  I  went  to  a  dinner  at  Mr. 
Freemantle's,  who  was  in  America  last  year.  Arthur 
sat  next  to  Lady  Augusta  Stanley,  the  Dean's  wife. 
He  (Arthur)  has  been  off  for  four  days  on  a  cathe- 
dral trip,  and  I  have  been  visiting  in  the  country. 
To-day  I  am  to  preach  in  St.  Philip's  Eegent  Street, 
for  Mr.  Leathes,  whom  I  saw  in  America  last  year. 
To-morrow  morning  we  leave  for  France  by  New  Haven 
and  Dieppe,  and  begin  at  once  on  Normandy.  How 
I  wish  you  were  here.  Shall  we  not  come  together 
some  day  ?  Write  me  punctually,  and  I  will  always 
answer.     Affectionately,  Phill. 

MoBLAix,  Fbancb,  July  28, 18Y4. 

Dear  Mother,  —  Arthur  says  this  is  a  "dutiful 
scene."  He  is  sitting  on  one  side  of  a  wretched  little 
table,  in  this  quaint  old  hotel,  writing  to  John,  and  I 
am  just  beginning  this  note  to  you  upon   the   other 


174  FROM  LONDON  TO  VENICE. 

side.  I  dare  say  our  letters  will  be  very  much  alike, 
for  there  is  nothing  to  tell,  except  where  we  have  been 
and  what  we  have  seen  ;  that  is  rich  enough.  A  week 
ago  yesterday  we  crossed  from  New  Haven  to  Dieppe, 
and  had  a  very  beautiful  voyage.  The  sea  was  calm 
and  bright ;  the  coast  that  we  left  and  the  coast  to 
which  we  came,  both  were  beautiful.  Then  we  went 
up  to  Rouen,  and  spent  a  lovely  day  among  its  old 
Gothic  architecture.  There  is  nothing  more  beauti- 
ful in  Europe.  Then  we  struck  off  into  the  coun- 
try, and  for  a  week  we  have  been  wandering  around 
among  old  Norman  towns,  each  odder  and  more 
picturesque  than  any  that  have  gone  before.  Pont- 
Audemer,  Lisieux,  Caen,  Bayeux,  St.  Lo,  Coutances, 
Granville,  Avranches,  Pont  Orson,  Dol,  Rennes,  Mor- 
laix,  these  are  mere  names  to  you,  as  they  were  a  week 
ago  to  us,  but  now  they  are  all  places  to  remember, — 
old  towns,  each  with  its  churches  six  or  eight  hundred 
years  old,  some  with  magnificent  cathedrals,  and  all 
with  curious  houses  tumbling  out  over  the  streets,  and 
carved  from  top  to  bottom  with  the  queerest  figures  in 
their  oak  timbers,  apostles,  prophets,  martyrs,  dragons, 
donkeys,  trees,  soldiers,  and  great  wreaths  of  flowers. 
The  streets  themselves  are  full  of  interesting  people, 
doing  the  oddest  things.  Women  with  high,  white 
caps,  men  with  wooden  shoes  clattering  along  the  pave- 
ments, children  playing  strange  games,  and  donkeys 
laboring  along  with  loads  three  times  as  big  as  them- 
selves. 

All  the  places  are  full  of  history.  Here  William  the 
Conqueror  was  bom,  and  here  he  was  buried ;  here  the 
Huguenots  once  burned  the  church,  and  there  the  Roy- 
alists withstood  the  Republicans  in  the  French  Revo- 
lution.     All  this  makes  Boston  seem  far  away,  and 


TOURS,  175 

the  sense  of  vacation  very  complete.  To-day  we 
passed  from  Normandy  to  Brittany,  a  rougher,  ruder 
country,  and  a  wilder  people.  Last  Sunday  we  spent 
at  Granville,  a  curious  French  watering-place  upon 
the  coast,  and  after  a  service  in  the  old  cathedral,  we 
bathed  and  swam  from  the  great  beach.  Arthur  is 
well,  and  seems  to  enjoy  it  all.  To-night  we  received 
letters  up  to  July  9.  Here  are  some  nice  old  people 
and  "  Little  Wanderers  "  from  Brittany.  Are  n't  they 
pretty  ?     Love  to  all.     Write  often. 

Phillips. 

Tours,  Tuesday  Evening,  August  4,  1874. 

Dear  William,  —  Here  I  have  just  received  your 
second  letter,  full  of  pleasant  talk,  and  telling  every 
kind  of  interesting  thing  about  Andover,  Mary,  and 
all  the  other  people.  I  was  glad  to  get  it.  For  a 
week  we  have  wandered  on  through  Brittany,  looked 
at  old  castles  and  cathedrals,  and  talked  together 
about  you  all,  but  have  heard  nothing  since  last  Tues- 
day evening.  Arthur  receives  no  end  of  newspaper 
cuttings,  telling  about  the  great  Chicago  fire,  but  my 
only  home  letter  is  yours,  and  I  am  satisfied.  I  won- 
der if  you  have  followed  us  upon  the  map  ?  We  have 
rounded  the  promontory  of  Finisterre,  out  on  the 
northern  side  almost  to  Brest,  as  far  as  St.  Pol  de 
Leon  and  Lesneven ;  then  down  to  Quimper,  and  by 
Auray  and  Carnac  to  Angers,  where  we  spent  last 
Sunday.  To-day,  our  trip  has  been  to  Poitiers,  and 
here  we  are  to-night  at  Tours.  It  has  been  almost 
exactly  the  journey  which  I  laid  out  at  my  table  in 
the  Kempton,  and  has  proved  about  the  best  that 
could  be  made.  I  have  been  amazed  at  the  richness 
of  the  old  architecture  of  the  country.     In  little  out 


176  FROM  LONDON  TO    VENICE. 

of  the  way  villages,  reached  only  by  rickety  country 
wagons,  we  have  found  glorious  and  immense  churches 
of  the  rarest  beauty,  —  churches  that  took  centuries  to 
build,  and  stand  to-day  perfect  in  their  splendor,  with 
wonderful  glass  in  their  windows,  and  columns  and 
capitals  that  take  your  breath  away  for  beauty.  The 
people  of  Brittany  are  rough  enough,  and  some  of  the 
inns  at  which  we  spent  the  night  were  dirty  and  for- 
lorn ;  but  the  people  were  always  kind  and  civil,  and 
did  their  best  to  make  us  comfoi-table.  They  show 
clearly  enough  that  they  are  of  the  old  Celtic  stock, 
true  cousins  of  the  Irishmen  we  know  so  well.  We 
had  some  drives,  and  we  met  laborers  by  the  score, 
who  might  easily  have  been  turning  up  the  bog  in 
Ireland,  or  driving  a  dirt  cart  among  the  ruins  of 
Fort  HiU.  They  are  a  very  devout  folk,  even  to 
superstition,  and  altogether  interesting  and  filthy. 

Now  we  are  out  of  Brittany,  and  making  our  way 
from  town  to  town  along  the  splendid  valley  of  the 
Loire.  There  is  a  cathedral  here  in  Tours  (with 
twin  towers)  that  staggers  you  with  its  splendor,  as 
you  come  suddenly  out  of  a  little  dark,  crooked  street 
and  stand  in  front  of  it.  Yesterday,  Le  Mans  had 
another,  and  to-day  Poitiers  was  wonderfully  rich.  All 
the  while  your  letters  come  in  most  welcome,  and  are 
better  than  cathedrals.  Now  you  must  be  just  about 
going  up  to  Andover  and  cooling  yourseK  after  a  hot 
day.  My  blessing  to  you  always,  and  to  Mary  and 
the  bairns.     Do  not  forget  to  write.     Yours  always, 

P. 

Venice,  Friday  Evening,  August  21,  1874. 

Dear  William,  —  I  fully  expected,  when  we  arrived 
here  this  afternoon,  to  find  a  letter  from  you,  and  per- 


VENICE.  177 

haps  from  some  of  the  other  good  folks  at  home,  but 
they  had  not  come,  so  this  goes  not  as  answer  to  any- 
thing in  particular,  but  only  to  tell  you  generally  how 
we  fare.  We  have  reached  the  Adriatic.  After  two 
days  in  Milan,  we  rode  to-day  across  the  beautiful 
plain  of  northern  Italy,  and  came  in  over  the  Lagune 
to  this  wonderful  city.  It  is  nine  years  since  I  was 
here,  but  the  city,  which  has  stood  for  more  than  nine 
hundred  years,  has  not  changed  much  since  I  saw  it 
last.  St.  Mark's  is  just  where  I  left  it  in  the  great 
square,  and  the  gondoliers  are  singing  and  rowing  in 
the  canal  under  my  windows,  just  as  of  old.  It  has 
been  a  varied  enough  trip  that  we  have  taken,  London, 
Brittany,  Paris,  Switzerland,  and  Italy.  It  has  been 
delightful.  We  have  been  rather  too  much  hurried ; 
I  think  we  shall  stay  here  for  a  week,  and  see  the 
strange  old  city  thoroughly.  Arthur  is  enjoying  it 
very  much. 

The  hotel  here  is  full  of  English  and  American 
people.  At  the  table  to-day  everybody,  except  one, 
talked  English ;  but  there  is  nobody  we  ever  saw  be- 
fore, and  we  still  make  each  other's  company.  I 
wonder  if  you  have  had  a  pleasant  summer  ?  In  spite 
of  all  the  delight  of  this  sort  of  life,  it  wiU  not  be  bad 
to  get  back  again,  settle  down,  and  talk  it  over  in 
West  Cedar  Street  or  Berkeley  Street. 

.  .  .  The  news  from  home  seems  quiet,  except  that 
I  see  there  is  more  trouble  at  the  South. 

Four  weeks  from  to-day  I  shall  be  on  the  ocean, 
and  six  weeks  from  to-day  I  will  spend  the  evening 
with  you  if  you  wiU  ask  me.  My  kindest  love  to 
Mary,  the  babies,  and  all  at  home. 

Yours  most  affectionately,  P. 


178  FROM  LONDON  TO  VENICE. 

Sunday,  August  23,  1874. 

Dear  Father,  —  This  has  been  Sunday  in  Ven- 
ice. This  morning,  we  set  out  like  good  boys  to  go 
to  church,  but  when  our  gondola  reached  the  palace 
on  the  Grand  Canal  where  service  is  wont  to  be  held, 
we  found  a  man  upon  the  steps  to  say  there  was  no 
service  because  the  chaplain  had  gone  into  the  coun- 
try. It  sounded  very  much  like  what  might  be  said 
upon  the  steps  of  Technological  Hall ;  so  Arthur  and 
I  made  a  round  of  the  great  churches,  and  looked  at 
the  pictures  in  them  until  dinner  time.  K  we  did  not 
go  to  church,  we  went  to  churches.  This  evening, 
the  moon  is  splendid  on  the  water,  and  we  took  a 
gondola  again,  and  rowed  round  about  the  beautiful 
old  place  for  an  hour.  That  has  been  our  Sunday. 
We  are  lying  by  at  Venice  for  refreshment,  and  no- 
thing could  be  more  delightful.  The  weather  is  ex- 
quisite,  cool,  clear,  and  cloudless.  The  pictures  are 
glorious,  and  you  do  not  walk  anywhere,  because 
you  cannot,  but  are  rowed  wherever  you  want  to  go 
in  the  most  luxurious  style. 

We  came  here  over  the  Alps  and  by  Milan.  There 
we  spent  two  days,  about  one  of  which  I  wrote  last 
night,  a  letter  which  you  will  see  by  and  by  in  the 
"Standard  of  the  Cross."  We  shall  stay  here  till 
Thursday  or  Friday,  and  then  start  through  the 
Tyrol,  slowly,  by  way  of  Munich  and  the  Rhine,  to 
Paris.  Three  weeks  from  Thursday  we  sail.  On  the 
8th  of  September  we  mean  to  reach  Paris.  Think  of 
us  there. 

I  wonder  what  you  are  doing ;  how  I  wish  you  were 
here  to  see  the  Ducal  Palace  with  us  to-morrow.  It 
would  be  great  fim,  too,  to  see  the  gondolas  go  out. 
I  have  seen  nothing  of  the  Winthrops,  but  have  had  a 


MAYENCE.  179 

letter  from  Mrs.  Winthrop,  who  is  in  Germany.     My 
love  to  all.  P. 

Matence,  September  4,  1874. 

Dear  William,  —  Let  me  see.  The  last  time  I 
wrote  to  you  I  was  in  the  top  story  of  a  hotel  at 
Venice,  looking  down  upon  the  Grand  Canal.  To- 
night, I  am  in  the  top  story  of  a  hotel  at  Mayence, 
looking  down  upon  the  Rhine.  From  Italy  to  Ger- 
many !  The  change  is  complete  enough,  but  the  two 
evening  views  out  of  the  windows  are  not  so  unlike.  "We 
have  come  up  through  the  Tyrol,  over  the  great  Am- 
pezzo  Pass  that  I  have  long  wanted  to  see,  and  which  we 
saw  pretty  well.  There  was  more  or  less  of  rain  to 
keep  the  magnificent  Dolomites  from  showing  their 
most  splendid  heads,  but  on  the  whole  the  three  days 
were  a  success,  and  brought  us  by  Innsbruck  to 
Munich,  where  we  spent  Sunday  and  Monday.  I 
have  been  there  several  times  before,  but  it  is  a  bright, 
cheery  city,  full  of  art  treasures,  which  I  do  not  care 
how  often  I  see.  Then  we  went  to  Ratisbon,  and  to 
Nuremberg,  which  was  quaint  and  lovely.  They  were 
celebrating  Sedan,  and  the  gray  old  town  was  gay 
with  colored  banners  and  flowers.  Then  there  was  a 
queer  Fourth-of-Julyish  procession  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  boys  sang  the  "  Wacht  am  Rhein"  about  the 
streets  all  the  evening.  After  that  we  went  to  Hei- 
delberg, and  saw  the  grand  old  castle,  the  noblest 
thing  of  its  sort  in  Europe.  To-day,  we  came  up  to 
Worms  and  saw  the  cathedral,  and  thought  of  Luther 
at  the  Diet,  and  this  afternoon  we  journeyed  on  to 
this  place ;  to-morrow,  go  down  the  Rhine  to  Cologne, 
where  we  shall  spend  Sunday. 

So  our  faces  are  set  homeward,  and  ten  days  after 


180  FROM  LONDON  TO  VENICE. 

you  get  this  you  will  get  us,  if  the  Siberia  goes  well. 
We  have  not  seen  any  one  we  know  since  we  left 
Venice,  but  all  around  us  the  papers  tell  of  multi- 
tudes of  our  countrymen  having  their  good  time.  I 
wonder  whether  they  all  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I  do. 
Sometimes,  especially  when  I  read  home  papers  (and 
I  thank  you  for  those  you  sent  me  last),  I  grow 
conscience-stricken  and  restless,  and  want  to  be  at 
work ;  then  I  make  up  my  mind  to  work  all  the  harder 
when  I  reach  home,  and  thus  dismiss  the  anxiety  and 
go  on  my  easy  way. 

I  hear  that  father  and  mother  will  stay  another 
year  in  Hancock  Street.  ...  I  think  it  is  the  best 
plan,  and  we  will  still  climb  the  hill  to  see  them.  I 
shall  be  glad  enough  to  see  you  as  we  draw  up  at  East 
Boston.     My  brotherly  love  to  M. 

Affectionately,  Phillips. 


ENGLAND  AND  THE  CONTINENT. 
1877. 

London,  July  4, 1877. 

Dear  Father,  —  Hurrah  for  the  Fourth  of  July  ! 
William  has  gone  for  a  day  or  two  by  himself  on  a 
trip  to  see  cathedrals,  and  I  have  no  doubt  is  enjoying 
everything  between  here  and  Durham.  I  think  he 
will  be  back  to-night,  and  then  we  shall  keep  together 
for  the  rest  of  the  time.  Since  we  arrived  and  came 
to  London,  we  have  been  very  busy.  William  has 
been  doing  the  sights,  and  I  have  been  about  with  him 
most  of  the  time.  Last  Saturday  we  went  down  to 
Salisbury  and  spent  a  delightful  Sunday  in  that  quiet, 
little  cathedral  town.  In  the  afternoon  we  drove  out 
to  Stonehenge,  which  is,  I  think,  the  best  thing  to  see 
in  England.  It  is  so  old  that  it  would  puzzle  the 
Historical  Society  itself. 

I  left  William  there  and  came  back  to  London  early 
Monday  morning  to  go  and  lunch  with  some  parsons. 
Indeed,  I  have  been  parsoning  a  good  deal  of  the 
time.  We  are  to  dine  with  Dean  Stanley  on  Saturda}^ 
evening,  and  I  am  to  preach  for  him  in  the  Abbey  on 
Sunday  morning.  This  evening  I  am  to  dine  with 
Mr.  Pierrepont,  the  American  minister.  I  suppose 
General  Grant  will  be  there.  What  a  time  he  has 
been  having  here. 

.  .  .  To-day  I  have  been  at  Convocation,  or  sort  of 
General  Convention  of   the  Diocese   of   Canterbury, 


182        ENGLAND  AND   THE   CONTINENT. 

though  they  are  wholly  clergymen,  no  laymen.  To-day 
they  have  been  discussing  confession,  and  ended  in  a 
vote  by  a  large  majority  on  the  Protestant  side. 

Friday  night  we  have  an  order  for  the  House  of 
Lords  and  House  of  Commons.  So  you  see  we  are 
having  a  good,  busy  time.  Monday  morning  we  leave 
for  the  Continent  and  then  our  real  traveling  begins. 
I  hope  that  you  are  getting  better  and  better  all  the 
time.  Do  not  forget  that  you  and  mother  are  to  come 
and  spend  two  weeks  with  me  at  175  Marlboro'  Street. 
My  kindest  love  to  her  and  the  aunts. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Old  Bible  Hotel,  Amstebdam, 
Sunday,  July  15,  1877. 

Dear  Mother,  —  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
you  must  answer  this  letter  yourseK,  with  your  own 
hand.  I  think  it  must  be  ten  years  since  you  have 
written  me  a  regular  letter,  hardly  since  I  was  in 
Amsterdam  before,  so  remember  ! 

They  call  this  hotel  the  Old  Bible  Hotel  because  the 
first  Dutch  Bible  was  printed  in  this  house  some  two 
hundred  years  ago,  and  now  we  are  lodged  here,  yes- 
terday and  to-day.  This  morning  we  went  to  a  Dutch 
church  about  six  hundred  years  old  and  heard  some 
awful  singing  and  a  very  earnest  sermon,  of  which  we 
did  not  understand  a  word.  This  afternoon  we  went 
into  the  country  to  a  place  called  Zaandam,  and  saw 
all  sorts  of  queer  sights  among  the  country  people. 
On  the  whole,  our  first  week  on  the  Continent  has 
gone  first-rate,  and  we  shall  spend  this  week  entirely 
in  Holland,  bringing  up  at  Cologne  on  Saturday  night. 
We  are  both  well  and  are  having  a  good  time.  In 
England  all  went  nicely.     I  saw  a  good  many  people 


LUCERNE.  183 

in  London,  and  they  were  pleasant  and  civil.  General 
Grant  was  the  great  sensation.  I  dined  with  him  on 
the  4th  of  July  at  the  American  minister's.  He  did 
not  say  much,  but  was  simple  and  dignified.  We  saw 
a  great  deal  of  Dean   Stanley,  who  is  very  pleasant. 

I  am  so  glad  to  hear  how  well  father  is,  and  that 
the  summer  goes  so  happily  with  you  aU.  Our  time 
is  one  third  up,  and  it  will  not  be  long  before  we  are 
talking  of  home  again.  A  letter  from  James  tells  me 
that  I  am  a  Doctor  of  Divinity  at  Harvard.  I  am 
very  sensible  of  the  honor,  but  I  hope  people  wiU  not 
begin  to  call  me  by  the  title.  My  best  love  to  father 
and  the  aunts,  and  I  am  forever 

Your  affectionate  son,  Phillips. 

Lucerne,  Sunday,  Au^st  12, 1877. 

Dear  Mary,^—  Now  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  I 
dare  say  William  has  written  you  since  we  arrived  at 
Liverpool,  but  perhaps  he  has  not  told  you  anything 
about  where  we  have  been,  or  what  we  have  been  do- 
ing. I  must  go  back  to  the  steamer,  where  there  were 
a  great  many  pleasant  people.  We  sailed  along  as 
quietly  as  if  we  were  paddling  on  this  quiet  lake  of 
Lucerne,  the  sea  bag  hardly  wiggle-waggled  on  the 
wall.  Everybody  came  to  dinner,  and  the  tables  were 
dreadfuUy  crowded.  On  the  whole,  it  was  n't  much  of 
a  voyage,  quiet,  dull,  and  respectable.  We  probably 
shall  get  something  livelier  going  back,  when  the  Sep- 
tember sea  will  throw  up  its  heels  and  make  some  sort 
of  rumpus. 

Then  we  came  to  England,  where,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  General  Grant,  we  should  have  been  of  some  con- 
sequence, but  they  were  all  taken  up  with  him,  and 
looked  at  us  as  if  they  wondered  what  we  had  come  for. 

^  A  Bister-in-law. 


184        ENGLAND  AND   THE   CONTINENT, 

And  we  went  about  among  tliem  as  if  we  had  as  good 
a  right  as  they  had,  because  our  great-great-great- 
grandfathers came  from  there.  Their  country  looked 
beautiful,  and  London  never  seemed  fuller  of  people, 
and  was  pretty  hot.  It  is  terrible  to  think  how  many 
times  we  have  been  sizzling  with  heat  and  shivering 
with  cold  since  we  left  New  York.  I  feel  like  one  of 
the  pieces  of  meat  which  we  have  had  served  up  at 
our  many  dining-places,  which  have  evidently  been 
heated  over  and  then  cooled  down  again  a  dozen  times 
for  different  travelers  who  came.  However,  it  is  a 
pretty  healthy  process,  and  we  are  getting  as  tough  as 
some  of  the  pieces  of  meat.  Well,  that  is  what  we 
did  in  London. 

Then  we  crossed  over  to  the  Continent  and  so  came 
to  the  Belgians  and  Hollanders.  The  country  up 
there  was  damp  and  interesting.  It  was  curious  to 
see  how  hard  they  have  worked  to  save  it  from  the  sea, 
and  you  wonder  why  they  wanted  to  save  it.  The 
men  looked  wooden-headed  and  the  women  golden- 
headed,  not  as  to  their  hair,  but  they  wear  gold  blind- 
ers, like  very  swell  horses,  which  make  them  look  very 
funny,  and  compel  you  to  go  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street  when  you  meet  a  first-rate  a  la  girl.  But  they 
were  a  dear  old  people,  and  I  can  hear  their  wooden 
shoes  clattering  about  the  Amsterdam  pavements 
now.  I  have  no  doubt  they  will  go  on  growing  up 
(those  of  them  who  don't  fall  into  the  canals  and  get 
drowned  in  early  youth),  generation  after  generation, 
for  ages  to  come,  and  thinking  they  have  got  the  best 
country  in  the  world. 

Then  came  the  Rhine,  and  a  little  glimpse  of  Ger- 
many, and  Gothic  architecture,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  our   romantic   period.     It  was  aU  pretty,  and 


STRASBURG.  185 

William  kept  up  a  lively  life,  sight-seeing  all  day.  .  .  . 
Then  came  the  green  Tyrol,  running  up  to  the  White 
Alps  and  sending  us  over  from  the  snow-storm  on  the 
Stelvio  to  swelter  in  Verona.  We  put  on  overcoats 
and  wondered  whether  we  had  really  thirsted  for  a 
drop  of  water  only  two  days  before.  Then  came  Ven- 
ice, as  fascinating  and  dreamy  as  it  always  is,  beauti- 
ful hot  Florence,  bright  Milan,  then  the  hills  again, 
and  now  we  are  in  Switzerland.  That  is  all.  There 
is  a  lake  outside  this  fourth-story  window  that  is  pret- 
tier than  anything  in  Pomf ret,  and  to-morrow  we  are 
going  over  where  those  clouds  are  lying,  to  see  the 
beauties  of  the  Bernese  mountains.  I  expect  to  see 
the  Jungfrau  wink  at  William  to-morrow  evening. 
He  is  as  well  as  a  healthy  cricket.  Thank  you  for 
letting  him  come,  and  I  '11  return  him  safe.  My  love 
to  the  babies,  if  they  have  not  forgotten  me,  and  I  am 
just  as  usual,  Your  affectionate  P. 

Stbasburg,  August  26, 1877. 
Dear  Arthur,^  —  You  were  a  blessed  good  boy  to 
write  me  from  Bar  Harbor.  I  only  received  your 
note  last  night  when  I  came  here,  and  here 's  a  word 
of  answer,  though  we  are  so  near  coming  home  that  it 
hardly  seems  worth  while  to  write.  We  have  had  a 
lovely  summer,  much  of  it  on  our  old  ground.  First, 
London  and  the  Dean  (I  did  not  see  Stopford  Brooke 
or  Freemantle)  ;  then  the  Rhine,  Venice,  and  Milan 
(but  the  gallery  there  was  closed,  and  we  did  not  see 
the  Luinis) ;  then  Zermatt  and  Chamounix.  All 
these  brought  back  our  pleasant  days.  We  roamed 
about  and  limched  at  Bauer's,  which  stood  just  as  we 
left  it  opposite  St.  Moses.    It  seems  as  if  we  had  been 

1  His  brother,  Bev.  Arthur  Brooks,  D.  D, 


186        ENGLAND  AND   THE   CONTINENT. 

there  only  a  week  before,  in  fact  just  run  up  to  Co- 
negliano  and  back  again. 

And  you  have  been  in  the  old  haunts  in  Mt.  De- 
sert. You  were  cooler  than  we  were  in  Venice,  cer- 
tainly. I  have  seen  no  parsons  from  America,  though 
I  heard  of  Tyng  being  about  in  Switzerland.  The 
minister  at  Geneva  wrote  and  wanted  me  to  lay  the 
corner  stone  of  his  new  church,  but  I  wrote  him  I 
could  not,  and  he  asked  General  Grant,  which  no 
doubt  pleased  him  a  great  deal  better.  .  .  . 

There  has  been  a  terrible  summer  in  America, 
has  n't  there  ?  Matters  must  be  in  an  unsettled 
state  and  delay  the  return  of  prosperity  sadly.  Over 
here,  it  really  seems  as  if  Russia  had  got  a  much 
harder  job  than  anybody  dreamed,  and  one  perhaps 
too  hard  for  her  to  accomplish.  Nothing  but  Glad- 
stone, and  the  popular  feeling  which  he  excited  and 
expressed,  has  kept  England  neutral. 

I  wonder  if  you  are  back  in  New  York  and  at  work 
again.  Look  out  for  the  Scythia  on  Tuesday,  the 
18th,  when  we  arrive  under  the  care  of  Captain 
Hains.  I  shall  feel  by  and  by  as  if  I  could  not  cross 
the  ocean  except  with  him.  Give  my  best  love  to 
Lizzie,  and  tell  her  I  count  on  her  and  you  to  be  my 
first  visitors  in  the  new  house.  We  will  have  lots  to 
talk  about.  To-morrow  we  start  from  Paris,  and  a 
week  from  next  Saturday,  ho  for  New  York  I 

Always  affectionately,  P. 


IN    PAKIS,    ENGLAND,    SCOTLAND,    AND 
IKELAND, 

1880. 

Hotel  du  Louvre,  Paris,  July  7,  1880. 

Dear  William,  —  You  know  this  place.  The 
Louvre  is  just  opposite,  the  Palais  Royal  is  just  be- 
hind, and  you  and  I  were  here  in  1877.  You  see  we 
have  not  been  quite  able  to  keep  to  our  plan  of  not 
going  out  of  the  United  Kingdom.  I  have  to  be  in 
London,  or  rather  at  Windsor,  next  Sunday,  to  make 
a  few  remarks  to  the  Queen,  so  we  ran  over  here  for 
the  week  between.  It  looks  just  as  it  used  to.  The 
Venus  of  Milo  is  over  there  in  the  round  hall,  with 
the  red  curtains  behind  her,  and  the  Titians,  Murillos, 
and  Raphaels  are  upstairs.  The  cabs  go  whirling  over 
the  asphalt,  just  as  they  used  to  when  you  and  I  were 
in  them.  It  is  very  jolly  and  pretty,  and  I  wish  that 
you  were  here.  Everything  in  London  was  very  good. 
The  Dean  was  all  civility.  He  gave  us  his  dinner 
party,  and  Farrar  and  others  were  there ;  and  we  went 
to  the  great  Bradlaugh  debate  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  stayed  until  it  broke  up  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  We  went  also  to  Lambeth,  and  saw 
the  Archbishop,  but  did  not  lunch  with  him.  The 
pictures  in  Trafalgar  Square  were  just  as  fine  as 
ever,  and  I  bought  some  Waukenphasts,  and  preached 
in  the  Abbey  on  the  4th  of  July  evening.  Farrar 
preached   in   the  morning,   and  beat  me  on  Yankee 


188    PARIS,  ENGLAND,  SCOTLAND,  IRELAND. 

Doodle !     Tell  Mary  I  sliall  write  her  from  the  High- 
lands.    My  love  to  her,  the  babies,  and  all  Nahant. 
Affectionately,  P. 

Steamship  Columba,  July  29, 1880. 

Dear  William,  —  I  am  on  a  steamboat  between 
Oban  and  Glasgow  on  the  coast  of  Scotland.  John 
is  up  on  deck  somewhere,  and  the  scenery  outside  has 
grown  a  little  tame,  so  I  take  this  chance  to  tell  you 
that  we  are  well,  and  the  Scotch  trip,  which  h  draw- 
ing near  its  end,  has  been  a  great  success,  just  as  the 
Dutch,  the  Tyrolese,  and  the  Swiss  trip  were  three 
years  ago. 

We  left  London  on  the  12th  of  July ;  the  day  after  I 
wrote  a  beautiful  letter  to  Mary  from  Windsor  Castle, 
and  went  to  Edinburgh,  where  we  saw  many  pretty 
sights,  and  quite  a  number  of  interesting  people.  Dean 
Stanley  had  furnished  us  with  introductions,  and  every- 
body was  very  civil.  We  stayed  there  three  days, 
and  then  went  to  St.  Andrews,  where  we  saw  the  great 
ruined  cathedral,  and  some  more  agreeable  people  con- 
nected with  the  university  there.  We  spent  a  queer 
night  at  an  old  castle,  where  some  of  Dean  Stan- 
ley's relations  live,  and  all  was  very  nice  and  funny. 
Then  we  struck  north,  and  have  been  wandering  about 
the  Highlands  and  the  Island  of  Skye  for  the  last  ten 
days.  First-rate  weather,  lots  of  queer  adventures,  and 
all  sorts  of  ridiculous  stopping-places,  with  superb 
scenery  everywhere,  made  it  a  delightful  journey. 
Now  our  faces  are  turned  homeward.  A  day  upon 
the  Lowland  lakes,  a  day  in  Glasgow,  a  week  among 
the  English  lakes,  a  Sunday,  August  8,  at  Chester, 
three  days  in  Ireland,  the  Germanic  at  Queenstown 
on  the  13th,  New  York  some   time  on  Saturday,  the 


WELLS.  189 

21st;  then  Nahant,  Boston,  the  new  house,  and  ser- 
mons. .  .  . 

I  received  Mary's  letter  last  week,  and  consider  it 
an  answer  to  the  epistle  from  Windsor.  Tell  her  I 
thank  her  for  it.     Good-by.     Affectionately,         P. 

Wells,  August  5,  1880. 

My  dear  Mary,  —  Thank  you  for  your  letter^ 
which  was  very  good  to  get.  We  are  too  near 
home  (for  we  sail  a  week  from  to-morrow)  for  me  to 
write  you  a  great  long  answer,  but  it  just  occurs  to  me 
that  I  may  reach  Boston  at  some  imtimely  hour,  and 
want  to  get  into  my  house,  while  you  and  William  are 
comfortably  sleeping  at  Naliant.  So  will  you  ask  him, 
about  the  time  we  are  expected,  to  leave  the  house 
keys  at  the  Brunswick,  directed  to  me,  and  I  can  get 
them  there.     I  will  thank  you  v/hen  I  see  you. 

We  have  had  a  beautiful  time.  It  has  always 
rained  except  just  where  we  were,  and  everybody  has 
seemed  to  go  out  of  his,  her,  or  its  way  to  make  us 
happy.  Now  we  are  getting  a  few  days  down  here 
among  the  southern  towns.  We  have  just  come  back 
from  Glastonbury,  which  was  very  pretty,  and  I  am 
writing  to  you  in  a  queer  little  mahogany  coffee-room. 
John  is  beside  me,  writing  an  immense  letter  to  his 
wife,  which  is  a  thing  that  all  my  traveling  com- 
panions have  done  in  their  several  turns.  At  the  other 
end  of  the  table,  an  old  gentleman  with  a  bald  head 
is  studying  a  railway  time-table,  and  his  wife,  who  is 
very  ugly,  is  asleep  in  an  armchair  in  the  southeast 
corner.  At  the  northeast  corner  of  the  room,  a  man 
is  eating  his  supper  of  fried  sole  and  boiled  eggs.  The 
old  gentleman  has  just  called  for  a  glass  of  "  brown 
brandy  and  soda  water,"  and  he  seems  to  think  it  will 


190    PARIS,  ENGLAND,   SCOTLAND,   IRELAND. 

taste  good.  There  is  a  row  in  the  hall  because  an 
omnibus  lias  just  arrived  from  the  station  with  some 
more  guests,  and  the  landlady  is  running  about  like  an 
over-busy  hen.  That  is  about  all  that  seems  to  be 
going  on  to-night  in  Wells.  Tlie  old  gentleman,  who 
seems  to  be  the  liveliest  member  of  the  party,  has  got 
his  drink,  and  is  ordering  a  boiled  sole  for  his  break- 
fast at  half  past  eight  to-morrow  morning.  Now  WeUs 
is  perfectly  quiet.     Not  a  sound.   .  .  . 

Ever  yours  affectionately  (if  you  don't  forget  about 
the  keys),  P. 


A  YEAK  IN  EUKOPE  AND  INDIA. 

1882-1883. 

Steamship  Sebvia,  June  28, 1882. 

Dear  Johnny,^ —  We  have  had  a  wonderful  pas- 
sage, and  here  we  are  just  getting  ready  to  see  Fastnet 
light  this  afternoon.  Does  n't  that  bring  back  two 
years  ago,  and  all  the  long  dreary  day  between  Queens- 
town  and  Liverpool?  I  hope  that  we  shall  have  a 
more  cheerful  experience  to-morrow.  Dr.  John  Hall 
is  aboard,  and  Dr.  Lorimer,  and  Lawrence  Barrett,  and 
T.  B.  Aldrich,  and  four  hundred  and  fifty  more ;  and 
we  have  had  a  bright,  sunny,  happy  time.  McVickar 
and  James  and  I  and  Richardson  and  John  Ropes 
make  up  a  sort  of  party  who  sit  together  at  the  cabin 
table,  and  smoke  together  in  one  corner  of  the  deck, 
and  talk  about  whatever  chooses  to  turn  up. 

And  so  the  year  of  wandering  has  begun.  It  is  not 
easy  yet  to  realize  that  it  is  more  than  a  mere  summer's 
journey,  but  every  now  and  then  it  comes  over  me 
that  the  gap  is  to  be  so  great  that  the  future,  if  there 
is  any,  will  certainly  be  something  different  in  some 
way  from  the  past.  I  don't  regret  that,  for  pleasant 
as  all  these  past  years  have  been,  they  don't  look  very 
satisfactory  as  one  reviews  them ;  and  although  I  am 
inclined  to  put  a  higher  value  on  their  results  than 
anybody  else  would  be  likely  to  do,  they  have  not  cer- 
tainly accomplished  much.  I  should  like  to  think  that 
the  years  that   remain,  when  I  get  home,  would  be 

1  His  brother,  Rev.  John  C.  Brooks. 


192         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

more  useful.  There  is  surely  coming,  and  it  has  partly 
come,  a  better  Christian  Day  than  any  that  we  or 
our  fathers  for  many  generations  have  seen.  One 
would  like  to  feel  before  he  dies  that  he  had  made 
some  little  bit  of  contribution  to  it. 

Well,  well,  all  that  is  far  away ;  and  here  come  the 
stewards  rattling  the  plates  and  getting  ready  for  an 
immediate  lunch,  —  soup  and  cold  meat  and  prunes 
and  baked  apples ;  that  is  the  next  step  in  this  small 
floating  world,  and  the  future  of  Christianity  does  not 
interest  any  of  them  at  this  moment. 

I  wonder  what  is  going  on  at  home.  Your  Marion 
home  must  be  almost  done.  I  hope  with  all  my  heart 
you  and  yours  may  be  very  happy  there  in  secula 
seculorum.  Think  of  me  sometimes,  and  when  you 
tMnk,  write.     My  love  to  Hattie  and  the  babies. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Steamship  Servia,  June  28,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  We  reached  Queenstown  last 
night,  and  I  wish  you  were  here  this  morning.  I 
would  tell  you  what  a  pleasant  voyage  we  had,  since 
you  left  us  a  week  ago  this  morning ;  what  a  splendid 
great  ship  this  is,  and  how  McVickar  and  I  have  rat- 
tled round  in  our  little  stateroom.  I  preached  last 
Smiday,  and  we  had  an  entertainment  last  night  for 
the  Liverpool  Seamen's  Home.  I  presided,  and  Law- 
rence Barrett  read  "  Horatius,"  and  girls  and  boys 
sang  songs.  "  William,"  our  old  steward  of  the  Scy- 
thia,  is  on  this  boat,  and  waits  on  James.  The  Cap- 
tain never  speaks  to  anybody  ;  we  have  four  hundred 
and  fifty  passengers,  are  awfully  over-crowded,  and 
have  to  dine  in  two  batches.  It  is  all  delightful  and 
confused,  and  as  funny  as  an  ocean  vo3^age  always  is. 


BRUSSELS.  193 

But  you  are  not  here,  so  I  will  not  try  to  tell  you  all 
this,  but  we  have  really  had  a  most  remarkable  voyage. 

I  think  we  are  likely  next  week  to  turn  our  steps 
southward  and  spend  the  summer  in  southern  France 
and  northern  Italy,  with  perhaps  a  run  into  northern 
Spain.  Richardson  will  probably  join  us  there,  and 
architecture  be  the  main  interest  of  the  tour.  But  art, 
life,  and  scenery  shall  not  be  forgotten.  You  shall 
hear  all  about  it. 

Did  Gertie  get  the  list  of  passengers  I  sent  her? 
I  thought  she  would  see  a  good  many  names  that  she 
knew,  and  would  be  interested  in  knowing  who  my 
companions  were.  James  has  just  passed  by,  pacing 
the  deck  with  jocund  tread,  and  sends  his  love. 

It  was  good  of  you  and  Mary  to  come  and  see  us 
off.  I  think  you  are  both  very  good  to  me  aU  the 
time,  and  to  tliink  of  your  goodness  will  be  one  of  my 
greatest  joys  this  long  year.  P. 

Hotel  Bellevue,  Brussels,  July  9,  1882. 
My  dear  William,  —  Do  you  remember  pretty 
Brussels  ?  And  this  comfortable  hotel  and  St.  Gudule 
and  the  nice  time  we  had  here  five  years  ago  ?  Well, 
here  we  are  again,  James  and  McYickar  and  I,  and  I 
will  tell  you  how  we  got  here.  We  landed  after  a  most 
wonderful  passage  from  the  Servia  on  Thursday  even- 
ing, the  29th  of  June.  The  next  morning  we  left 
Liverpool,  and  James  and  I  spent  the  night  at  the 
Peacock  Inn  at  Rowsley,  where  we  went  to  see  Chats- 
worth  and  Haddon  Hall.  It  was  the  most  delightful 
English  afternoon.  Saturday  morning  we  took  a 
train  for  Lincoln,  and  saw  the  big  cathedral,  which 
you  know.  That  was  good,  too,  and  James  seemed  to 
enjoy  it  very  much.     In  the  afternoon  we  drove  to 


194         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Boston,  where  we  saw  the  Vicar,  who  insisted  that  we 
should  remain  for  Sunday.  We  declined  his  invita- 
tion to  the  vicarage  and  stayed  at  the  Peacock  Inn. 

It  is  a  very  neat  and  pretty  town,  as  dull  as  death, 
with  nothing  but  the  St.  Botolph  Church  to  give  it 
distinction.  On  Sunday  morning  James  read  the 
Lessons  in  the  hig  church  and  I  preached.  It  was  a 
pleasant  sort  of  experience.  John's  visit  of  two  years 
ago  was  constantly  referred  to,  and  seems  to  have  be- 
come historic  in  the  town.  The  Vicar  is  a  very  pleas- 
ant old  gentleman  and  hospitable  as  he  can  be. 

From  there  we  went  to  Peterborough,  and  on  Mon- 
day saw  Ely  and  a  good  deal  of  Cambridge,  and  finally 
brought  up  at  London  on  Monday  night.  We  went 
to  one  or  two  hotels  about  Trafalgar  Square,  but  they 
were  crowded,  and  at  last  we  brought  up  at  the  old 
door  of  the  Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  where  they 
took  us  in,  and  it  was  like  a  bit  of  the  old  times. 

Here  we  stayed  three  days.  One  night  we  went  to 
the  House  of  Commons.  Of  course  I  went  into  the 
Abbey  and  saw  the  Dean's  grave,  and  I  called  at  the 
old  deanery,  but  the  new  Dean  was  out.  Farrar  came 
to  see  me  and  asked  me  to  preach.  I  saw  Lady  Frances 
Baillie,  and  we  had  much  talk  about  Dean  Stanley. 
Then  we  went  out  to  see  Burne  Jones  the  artist,  and 
again  to  see  William  Morris  the  poet,  at  his  factory 
at  Merton  Abbey,  where  he  makes  his  beautiful  things. 
These,  with  some  sights  of  London,  took  up  our  time. 
McVickar,  who  had  been  to  see  his  sister,  joined  us 
again  in  London,  and  here  we  also  met  Richardson, 
and  arranged  to  go  with  him  to  southern  France  and 
Spain.     Think  of  us  there  when  you  get  this. 

On  Friday,  James,  McVickar,  and  I  crossed  from 
Dover  to  Ostend,  and  yesterday  we  went  to  Louvain, 


PARIS.  195 

where  McVickar  had  to  see  about  some  bells  for  Holy 
Trinity.  There  is  a  bright  and  busy  ten  days  since 
we  landed.  How  are  you  all  ?  I  tried  to  picture  you 
at  Andover  this  Sunday  afternoon,  with  the  aunts  tak- 
ing care  of  you.  Oh,  how  I  wish  you  and  Mary  were 
here,  and  could  go  down  with  us  to  hear  the  Vesper 
music  at  St.  Gudule.  It  is  all  very  pleasant  and  will 
last  for  six  weeks  more,  and  then  for  Germany,  and 
something  rather  more  like  work.  It  is  hard  to  real- 
ize that  a  year  and  more  must  come  before  I  see  you 
all.  God  keep  you.  My  best  love  to  Mary  and  the 
children.  Affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  de  l'Empire,  Paris,  July  14,  1882. 
My  dear  Gertie,  —  I  was  very  much  pleased  to  get 
your  letter,  and  think  it  was  very  nice  indeed  in  you 
to  write.  It  was  the  first  letter  I  received,  and  I  read 
it  as  I  was  sitting  in  the  vestibule  of  the  House  of 
Commons  in  London,  waiting  for  the  doors  to  open, 
to  let  us  go  in  and  hear  the  great  men  make  their 
speeches.  Since  then  we  have  traveled  on  and  on, 
and  now  are  in  great  Paris.  It  is  all  excitement  here, 
because  this  is  the  great  Fete  Day,  just  like  the  4th 
of  July  in  Boston.  Years  and  years  ago,  the  old 
prison  of  the  Bastile  was  taken,  and  the  prisoners 
were  released  on  the  14th  of  July.  Susie  will  tell  you 
all  about  it.  The  streets  to-day  are  full  of  flying 
flags,  and  there  are  bands  of  music  going  all  about 
town,  and  hosts  of  soldiers  marching.  This  evening, 
the  city  is  going  to  be  illmninated,  and  there  will  be 
fireworks  everywhere.  And  it  is  all  as  pretty  as 
pretty  can  be.  Don't  you  wish  that  you  were  here  ? 
Some  day  you  and  I  will  come.  The  funny  thing  is 
that  the  people  here  speak  French.     The  little  chil- 


196         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

dren  about  the  streets  speak  it,  just  as  well  as  you 
speak  English.  The  boys  and  girls  are  very  queer. 
The  common  little  boys  wear  blue  blouses,  and  the 
little  girls  wear  small  white  night  -  caps  all  the  time. 
It  is  bright,  and  sunshiny,  and  delightful. 

I  am  glad  you  have  had  such  a  nice  time  in  New 
York,  and  that  you  saw  Central  Park  and  the  Ele- 
vated Railroad.  Now  I  am  glad  you  are  having  such 
a  good  time  at  Andover.  Go  and  see  the  beautiful 
pig,  and  write  me  a  letter  and  tell  me  how  he  looks. 
Get  your  map  and  find  Bayonne,  down  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  France.  We  shall  be  somewhere 
about  there  when  you  get  this  letter. 

Good-by,  and  don't  forget  your  affectionate  uncle 

Phillips. 

NiMBS,  France,  July  23,  1882. 
Dear  William,  —  I  am  afraid  that  a  little  letter 
which  I  wrote  from  Paris  must  do  duty,  and  fill  the 
gap  between  my  last  to  you  and  this.  After  we  left 
Paris,  we  traveled  somewhat  rapidly  through  France 
imtil  we  reached  this  place.  What  we  saw  specially 
was  a  group  of  churches  in  Auvergne,  in  and  about 
Clermont,  in  which  Richard  son  is  especially  inter- 
ested, and  which  indeed  give  the  key  to  a  great  deal 
that  is  in  Trinity.  They  are  very  curious,  and  I  am 
glad  to  have  seen  them.  Besides,  we  saw  one  or  two 
funny  little  French  watering-places  and  some  fine 
scenery,  finer  than  anything  which  I  had  supposed 
there  was  in  France.  We  are  spending  a  quiet  Sunday 
here,  and  next  week  shall  very  possibly  start  for 
Spain,  where  we  may  spend  a  few  weeks,  but  our 
plans  are  uncertain.  Richardson  and  his  young  friend 
Jacques  are  still  with  us. 


GENOA.  197 

I  have  heard  little  from  home,  but  am  thankful  to 
know  that  all  goes  well.  There  were  a  few  lines  on 
the  outside  of  a  forwarded  letter,  which  reached  me 
here,  in  which  you  told  me  that  Arthur  and  Lizzie 
sailed  on  the  11th.  They  must  be  now  in  Europe.  I 
hope  they  will  let  me  know  their  whereabouts,  and 
that  I  may  see  them  before  they  go  home.  It  seems 
very  strange  that  we  should  all  be  in  Europe,  and  not 
know  anything  about  each  other's  ways.  Allen  writes 
me  about  the  church,  which  seems  to  be  getting  on 
well. 

I  wish  you  were  here,  but  do  write  me  all  about 
everything.     My  love  to  all.  P. 

Genoa,  July  30,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  ...  You  do  not  know  what  a 
lovely  Sunday  this  is  here.  The  sea  breeze  is  blowing, 
the  palaces  are  shining,  the  people  are  chattering, 
the  sky  is  a  delicious  blue,  and  you,  if  you  were  only 
here,  would  add  another  picture  to  your  gallery  which 
would  be  worth  keeping  all  your  life.  Since  last  Sun- 
day we  have  strolled  through  southern  France,  seen 
Provence  with  its  wealth  of  old  Roman  remains,  and 
sailed,  with  the  loveliest  passage,  across  from  Mar- 
seilles to  this  delightful  town.  To-morrow,  we  start 
by  steamer  for  Leghorn,  Pisa,  and  Florence.  North- 
ern Italy  will  have  the  next  three  weeks,  —  mitil 
James  leaves  us  for  home,  and  the  whole  party  goes 
to  pieces.  We  have  had  some  hot  weather,  but  no- 
thing oppressive,  —  nothing  like  what  I  fear  you  have 
had  at  home. 

We  are  evidently  going  to  have  a  troubled  year  in 
Europe,  and  just  at  present  it  cannot  be  nice  to  go  to 
India.     It  seems  most  doubtful  what  will  be  the  end, 


198         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

especially  if,  as  now  seems  likely,  the  religious  ques- 
tion gets  mixed  up  with  it,  and  a  Mohammedan  sacred 
war  is  proclaimed.  England  is  sure  to  come  out 
strong.  Her  action  in  Egypt  must  certainly  be  for 
the  advantage  of  civilization  and  the  world.  .  .  . 

Florence,  Augnst  6,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  How  do  you  all  do  this  week  ? 
Dear  me,  how  the  weeks  go  by,  and  the  hot  summer 
slips  away !  Since  last  Sunday  we  have  had  a  pretty 
sail  from  Genoa  to  Leghorn,  a.  bright  day  in  Pisa, 
a  nice  three  days  in  Florence,  and  a  visit  to  Sienna 
and  Orvieto.  Just  think  of  Orvieto,  where  we  slept 
Friday  night,  within  two  hours  and  a  half  of  Rome 
itself! 

Do  you  remember  Florence  ?  There  is  a  cathedral 
here,  a  Baptistery,  a  Campanile,  and  there  are  Donatel- 
los,  Andrea  del  Sartos,  and  Lucca  della  Robbias ;  and 
they  all  look  just  the  same  as  they  did  five  years  ago.  It 
is  not  quite  so  hot  as  when  we  were  here  last,  but  it  is 
the  same  bright,  happy-looking  place,  and  the  same 
man  sells  lemonade  under  the  shadow  of  the  loggia. 
To-morrow  morning  we  are  off  for  Bologna,  Ravenna, 
and  then  Venice.  Think  of  us  on  Sunday  the  20th, 
at  Milan,  and  Sunday  the  27th,  at  Paris.  Our  party 
has  held  together  beautifully,  and  there  has  been  lots 
of  fun.  I  shall  meet  Arthur  and  Lizzie  for  a  while 
after  the  1st  of  September.  I  heard  from  John  yes- 
terday, who  seems  delighted  with  Marion  and  his 
house.  ,  .  . 

My  next  prospect  is  Germany,  and  I  am  counting 
much  on  it. 


VENICE.  199 

Venice,  August  13,  1882. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  When  the  little  children  in  Venice 
want  to  take  a  bath,  they  just  go  down  to  the  front 
steps  of  the  house  and  jump  off,  and  swim  about  in 
the  street.  Yesterday  I  saw  a  nurse  standing  on  the 
front  steps,  holding  one  end  of  a  string,  and  the  other 
end  was  tied  to  a  little  fellow  who  was  swimming  up 
the  street.  When  he  went  too  far,  the  nurse  pulled 
in  the  string,  and  got  her  baby  home  again.  Then  I 
met  another  youngster,  swimming  in  the  street,  whose 
mother  had  tied  him  to  a  post  by  the  side  of  the  door, 
so  that  when  he  tried  to  swim  away  to  see  another  boy, 
who  was  tied  to  another  door  post  up  the  street,  he 
could  n't,  and  they  had  to  sing  out  to  one  another  over 
the  water. 

Is  not  this  a  queer  city  ?  You  are  always  in  danger 
of  rmming  over  some  of  the  people  and  drowning  them, 
for  you  go  about  in  a  boat,  instead  of  a  carriage,  and 
use  an  oar,  instead  of  a  horse.  But  it  is  ever  so  pretty, 
and  the  people,  especially  the  children,  are  very  bright, 
and  gay,  and  handsome.  When  you  are  sitting  in 
your  room  at  night,  you  hear  some  music  under  your 
window,  and  look  out,  and  there  is  a  boat  with  a 
man  with  a  fiddle,  and  a  woman  with  a  voice,  and 
they  are  serenading  you.  To  be  sure,  they  want  some 
money  when  they  are  done,  for  everybody  begs  here, 
but  they  do  it  very  prettily  and  are  full  of  fun. 

Tell  Susie  I  did  not  see  the  Queen  this  time.  She 
was  out  of  town.  But  ever  so  many  noblemen  and 
princes  have  sent  to  know  how  Toody  was,  and  how 
she  looked,  and  I  have  sent  them  all  her  love. 

There  must  be  lots  of  pleasant  things  to  do  at  An- 
dover,  and  I  think  you  must  have  had  a  beautiful  sum- 
mer there.      Pretty  soon,  now,  you  will   go  back  to 


200         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Boston.  Do  go  into  my  house  when  you  get  there, 
and  see  if  the  doll  and  her  baby  are  well  and  happy 
(but  do  not  carry  them  off)  ;  and  make  the  music  box 
play  a  tune,  and  remember  your  affectionate  uncle 

Phillips. 

Chioggia,  August  16,  1882. 

Dear  Mary,  —  Did  you  ever  come  to  Chioggia? 
If  you  ever  did,  you  are  not  likely  to  have  forgotten 
it,  for  it  is  the  queerest,  dearest  little  place  in  the 
world.  Perhaps  some  time  when  you  have  been  at 
Venice,  you  have  taken  the  steamboat  early  in  the 
morning,  and  run  down  here  and  spent  the  day,  which 
is  what  Mr.  McVickar  and  I  have  done  to-day.  We 
left  James  just  dressed  and  ready  for  his  breakfast, 
meaning  to  have  a  beautiful  day  in  Venice ;  he  pre- 
ferred that  to  Chioggia,  and  we  shall  meet  again  to- 
night when  we  get  back  to  dinner.  You  have  no  idea 
how  well  he  is,  and  how  he  wanders  around  in  gondo- 
las like  a  Doge,  and  how  good  it  has  been  to  have  him 
here  all  these  weeks.     But  about  Chioggia. 

It  is  an  old,  old  island,  two  hours  from  Venice, 
where  the  people  fish  for  a  living,  and  hardly  anybody 
who  once  gets  born  on  the  island  ever  goes  away. 
The  harbor  now  is  full  of  fishing-boats,  with  sails  of 
red,  blue,  and  green,  with  pious  pictures  all  over  them, 
and  picturesque  fishermen  dropping  queer  nets  over 
the  sides.  The  old  piazza  in  front  of  the  tavern  where 
we  have  been  eating  our  coUazione  is  full  of  men  un- 
snarling their  nets  and  spreading  them  out  to  dry. 
Picturesque  children  are  begging  around  the  door; 
and  a  little  brown  rascal,  with  nothing  on  but  a  pair 
of  bathing  trousers,  is  standing  on  his  head  for  a  cent. 
The  gar^on  has  just  got  mad  and  thrown  one  of  the 


MILAN.  201 

cafe  chairs  into  the  midst  of  them  and  scattered  the 
clamorous  multitude,  who  are  laughing  at  him  from 
a  safe  distance. 

Up  the  street  there  is  a  jolly  old  church,  and  two 
funny  little  old  lions  are  carved  on  the  bridge,  which 
crosses  the  canal  just  opposite.  It  is  as  pretty  as  a 
picture, —  prettier  than  most.  I  hope  you  saw  it  the 
last  time  you  were  in  Venice.  If  not,  you  must  be 
sure  to  come  here  next  time.  The  only  trouble  is  that 
you  have  to  stay  six  hours,  when  three  is  quite  enough  ; 
but  this  gives  me  the  chance  for  which  I  have  been 
looking,  to  thank  you  for  your  letter,  which  was  very 
good  indeed  to  get.  It  came  from  Mt.  Desert,  which 
is  not  altogether  just  like  Venice,  but  is  something 
made  out  of  land  and  water,  at  any  rate. 

I  like  to  think  of  you  all  at  Andover,  where  I  am 
sure  you  have  had  a  good,  happy  summer.  I  hope 
when  you  get  back  to  dear  old  Boston,  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  miss  me  dreadfully.  I  expect  to  be 
full  of  miserableness  when  you  get  this,  week  after 
next,  which  will  be  the  time  when  our  pleasant  sum- 
mer party  is  breaking  up  and  I  shall  be  beginning  my 
solitary  winter.  Think  of  me  then,  and  how  good  it 
always  used  to  be  to  get  back  in  the  autumn  and 
start  the  winter  life  again.  I  wonder  if  those  times 
will  ever  come  back  again  just  so.     God  knows  ! 

Let  me  hear  often.     Most  affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  Continental,  Milan,  August  20,  18S2. 

Dear  William,  —  They  have  a  new  hotel  at  Milan, 
so  we  are  not  staying  where  you  and  I  put  up  five 
years  ago.  I  have  thought  very  much  about  our  vic't 
here.  Indeed,  the  whole  of  the  last  three  weeks  has 
reminded  me  of  much  that  we  did  to^xethsr  in  that 


202         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

pleasant  and  memorable  summer.  Florence,  Bologna, 
Venice,  Verona,  we  have  been  to  all  of  them,  throwing 
in  some  new  places,  some  of  which  I  had  never  seen 
before.  I  think  that  I  enjoyed  the  re-seeing  of  old 
places  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  much  as  the  discovery 
of  new  ones.  The  deepening  and  filling  out  of  old  im- 
pressions  is  very  delightful. 

Here  our  summer  party  begins  to  go  to  pieces.  Mr. 
Richardson  and  Mr.  Jacques  start  to-morrow  morning 
for  Marseilles  and  Spain.  James,  McVickar,  and  I 
go  northward  by  Maggiore  and  the  Simplon  to  Brieg, 
Martigny,  Chamounix,  Geneva,  and  Paris.  Our  jour- 
ney together  has  been  veiy  delightful.  Richardson 
is  full  of  intelligence  and  cultivation  in  his  own  art, 
and  Jacques  is  a  pleasant  fellow,  who  has  made  us  all 
like  him  very  much.  We  shall  miss  them  both  ex- 
ceedingly. Ahnost  no  other  Americans  have  come 
in  our  way.  I  saw  Mi*.  Augustus  Lowell  and  his 
family  in  Venice ;  and  Daniel  Dougherty  of  Phila- 
delphia (whom  you  and  I  went  once  to  hear  lecture,  — 
do  you  remember?)  turned  up  in  the  cathedral  the 
other  day. 

I  thank  you  for  your  good  letters,  and  for  an 
"  Advertiser  "  which  I  received  yesterday.  I  hope  that 
you  will  give  a  newspaper  a  chance  of  reaching  me 
now  and  then.  ...  P. 

HOtel  de  l'Empirb,  Paris,  August  28,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  I  have  just  been  to  the  station 
to  see  James  and  McVickar  off  for  England,  whence 
James  sails  on  Wednesday  for  America.  You  prob- 
ably will  see  him  before  you  get  this  letter.  He  will 
tell  you  about  our  last  week,  how  we  made  a  run 
through  Switzerland,  had  a  splendid  day  on  the  Sim- 


PARIS.  203 

plon,  crossed  the  Tete  Noire,  just  as  you  and  I  did  five 
years  ago,  found  clouds  and  rain  at  Chamounix,  so 
that  we  saw  nothing  there.  We  just  stopped  for 
dinner  at  Geneva  and  came  on  to  Paris,  which  we 
reached  early  Friday  morning.  After  three  pleasant 
days  together  in  Paris,  they  have  gone  this  morning, 
and  I  am  all  alone. 

It  has  been  a  delightful  summer,  and  now  I  feel  as 
if  my  work  began.  A  week  from  to-day  I  hope  to 
reach  Berlin,  where  I  shall  stay  for  some  time.  I  am 
very  anxious  to  study,  and  the  prospect  of  unlimited 
time  for  reading  opens  most  attractively.  I  do  not 
feel  as  if  it  were  a  waste  of  time,  or  mere  self-indul- 
gence, for  all  my  thought  about  the  work  which  I 
have  done  for  the  last  twenty  years,  while  it  is  very 
pleasant  to  remember,  makes  it  seem  very  superficial 
and  incomplete.  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  make  what 
remains  any  better,  but  I  am  very  glad  indeed  of 
the  opportunity  to  try. 

On  my  way  to  Germany  I  shall  probably  meet 
Arthur  and  Lizzie,  who  are  to  be  in  Belgium  some 
time  this  week.  ...  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  sight  of 
them,  but  it  will  be  very  brief,  hardly  more  than  a 
hand-shake  with  each  other,  I  am  afraid.  We  have 
seen  almost  no  Americans  this  summer,  until  we 
reached  Paris.  Yesterday,  the  little  American  church 
was  quite  full  of  them.  .  .  .  The  Winthrops  were  at 
Chamounix,  and  we  spent  an  evening  with  them. 
Mr.  Winthrop  seemed  to  be  enjoying  his  travels. 

Of  course,  everybody  is  anxiously  watching  the 
progress  of  affairs  in  Egy[:)t.  We  know  no  more  about 
it  than  you  do  in  America.  But  the  general  impres- 
sion is  that  it  cannot  h?.  a  long  affair,  though  the 
English  are  evidently  i  liding  Arabi's  people  stronger 


204         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

and  braver  than  they  had  expected.     But  any  day 
they  may  coUapse. 

Paris  is  cold  and  rainy,  not  at  all  the  bright  and 
sunny  thing  which  you  saw  when  you  were  here.  .  .  . 
Always  affectionately,  P. 

Hanover,  September  4,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  The  great  event  of  the  last  week 
was  the  meeting  of  the  waters.  Two  Brooks  boys, 
Arthur  and  I,  came  together  in  the  ancient  city  of 
Cologne.  It  was  Thursday  evening  when  it  hap- 
pened ;  Arthur  had  started  that  morning  from  May- 
ence  and  come  down  the  Rhine,  the  way  you  know, 
and  I  had  started  from  Paris,  at  an  awfid  hour,  and 
come  all  the  way  through  by  rail,  and  we  met  in  the 
hall  of  the  Plotel  d'HoUande  at  about  eight  o'clock 
p.  M.  We  had  a  long  talk  that  evening,  and  the  next 
morning  we  went  through  the  sights  of  Cologne  once 
more.  Then  we  took  rail  to  Aix  la  Chapelle,  and  1 
saw  that  again  in  this  new  company.  I  had  been 
there  once  before  this  year  with  James  and  McVickar. 

Then  we  went  to  Maestricht,  where  we  spent  the 
night  and  saw  a  queer  cave.  Then  we  came  to  Brus- 
sels, with  various  experiences  on  the  way,  and  once 
more  I  found  myself  in  that  very  familiar  town. 
There  we  spent  a  very  quiet,  pleasant  Sunday,  went 
to  church,  and  talked  to  each  other  a  great  deal.  Late 
last  night,  we  bade  each  other  a  long,  long  farewell. 
This  morning,  I  was  called  at  half  past  four,  and  have 
come  to-day  (passing  through  Cologne  again)  as  far 
as  here.  .  .  . 

I  have  started  my  journey  three  or  four  times  al- 
ready. Now  to-day  it  really  has  begun.  I  have  said 
good-by  to  my  last  relative,  and  there  is  nobody  else 


BERLIN.  205 

whom  I  have  any  engagement  to  meet  until  I  land  in 
New  York  a  year  hence.  I  am  quite  alone.  To-morrow, 
I  am  going  to  Hildesheim  and  Magdeburg,  and  the  next 
day  to  Berlin.  There  I  shall  get  your  letter,  which  I 
have  missed  this  week,  and  which  will  be  very  wel- 
come indeed.  I  have  thanked  you  most  heartily  for 
all  your  letters,  and  have  got  to  counting  upon  them 
as  regularly  as  the  week  comes  round.  So  do  not  ever 
dare  to  omit.  .  .  .  Everybody  now  is  expecting  an 
advance  in  Egypt,  and  news  of  a  battle,  anyway. 
France  is  getting  very  restless.  There  are  stormy 
times  coming  in  Europe. 

I  hope  you  are  all  well,  and  happy  as  kings  and 
queens,  or  happier.     My  love  to  everybody.  P. 

HoTEii  Du  NoBD,  Berlin, 
September  10,  1882. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  This  is  Sunday  morning.  It 
is  just  after  breakfast,  about  a  quarter  before  nine 
o'clock.  In  a  shop  window  on  this  street,  I  see  a 
great  big  clock  every  time  I  go  out.  It  has  seven 
faces,  and  each  face  tells  what  time  it  is  in  some  one 
of  the  great  cities  of  the  world.  The  one  in  the  middle 
tells  what  time  it  is  in  Berlin,  and  all  around  that  are 
the  other  great  cities ;  it  has  not  got  North  Ando- 
ver,  for  that  is  too  small ;  it  is  not  one  of  the  great 
cities  of  the  world ;  but  it  has  New  York.  Yester- 
day, as  I  passed  it  about  one  o'clock,  I  saw  that 
it  was  about  five  in  New  York,  so  I  know  now 
that  it  cannot  be  quite  three  in  North  Andover. 
You  will  not  go  to  church  for  a  good  while  yet,  so 
will  have  time  enough  to  read  my  letter  twice  before 
you  go. 

I  came  here  last  Wednesday,  and  am  going  to  stay 


206         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

for  some  time.  In  fact,  T  feel  as  if  I  lived  in  Berlin. 
I  send  you  a  picture  of  the  house,  with  a  line  drawn 
around  my  two  windows.  The  children  at  the  door 
are  not  you  and  Agnes.     I  wish  they  were. 

The  children  in  Paris  all  wore  blouses,  and  the 
children  in  Venice  did  not  wear  much  of  anything. 
Here  they  all  wear  satchels.  I  never  saw  such  chil- 
dren for  going  to  school.  The  streets  are  full  of  them, 
going  or  coming,  all  the  time.  They  are  queer  little 
white-headed  blue-eyed  things,  many  of  them  very 
pretty  indeed,  but  they  grow  up  into  dreadful-looking 
men  and  women.  They  wear  their  satchels  strapped 
on  their  backs  like  soldiers'  knapsacks,  and  when  you 
see  a  schoolful  of  three  hundred  letting  out,  it  is  very 
funny. 

Only  two  houses  up  the  street  lives  the  Emperor. 
He  and  his  wife  are  out  of  town  now,  or  no  doubt  they 
would  send  some  word  to  Toody. 

Affectionately  your  uncle  Phillips. 

Hotel  du  Nord,  Berlin, 

Sunday,  September  17,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  To-day  I  am  going  to  write  and 
tell  you  what  I  have  been  doing  in  Berlin.  I  have 
been  here  for  ten  days,  and  have  fallen  into  the  most 
regular  way  of  living,  just  as  if  I  had  been  a  Ber- 
liner instead  of  a  Bostonian,  and  had  lived  all  my 
youth  in  the  Unter  den  Linden  instead  of  in  Rowe 
Street.  Do  you  want  to  know  how  it  goes  ?  I  get  up 
in  the  morning  and  breakfast  at  eight  o'clock ;  then  I 
go  to  my  room,  which  is  very  bright  and  pleasant, 
where  I  have  a  lot  of  books  and  a  good  table,  at 
which  I  am  writing  now.  Here  I  stay  until  eleven 
or  twelve,  reading  and  studying,  mostly  German ;  then 


BERLIN.  207 

I  go  out,  see  a  sight  or  two,  and  make  calls  until 
it  is  two  o'clock.  Then  I  go  to  Dr.  Seidel,  my 
teacher,  and  take  a  lesson,  reading  German  with 
him  for  two  hours.  Then  it  is  dinner-time,  for  every- 
body in  Berlin  dines  very  early.  They  have  North 
Andover  fashions  here.  Four  o'clock  is  the  table 
d'hote  time  at  our  hotel,  and  that  is  rather  late.  After 
dinner  I  get  about  two  hours  more  of  reading  in  my 
room,  and  when  it  is  dark  I  go  out  and  call  on  some- 
body, or  find  some  interesting  public  place  until  bed- 
time.    Is  not  that  a  quiet,  regular  life  ? 

The  people  here  to  whom  I  had  letters  have  been 
kind  and  civil,  so  far  as  they  were  in  town;  but 
Berlin  ways  are  very  like  Boston  ways,  and  the  peo- 
ple whom  one  would  like  to  see  are  largely  at  North 
Andover  or  Nahant.  The  family  of  which  I  have 
seen  most  is  Baron  von  Bunsen's.  He  is  a  son  of  the 
old  Bunsen  of  whom  one  hears  so  much  in  the  last 
generation,  is  a  very  cultivated,  intelligent  gentleman, 
a  member  of  the  German  Parliament,  and  an  excel- 
lent scholar.  He  has  a  charming  family,  and  a  de- 
lightful house  in  the  new  part  of  Berlin,  which  is  very 
beautiful.  He  has  given  me  a  good  deal  of  time,  going 
to  museums,  etc.,  and  I  have  been  several  times  at  his 
house.  Tuesday  I  am  to  dine  there  and  go  with  them 
to  see  Schiller's  "  William  Tell." 

The  theatre  here  is  such  a  different  thing  from 
what  it  is  with  us.  It  is  like  a  sort  of  lecture.  It 
begins  at  half  past  six  and  is  out  before  ten.  Ladies 
come  unattended.  Some  of  them  sit  and  knit.  The 
whole  thing  is  as  quiet  as  a  sewing-circle,  and  quite 
free  from  any  of  the  air  of  dissipation  that  belongs 
to  theatre-going  in  America.  Of  course  there  are  the 
other  kind  of  theatres,  but  I  speak  of  the  best  sort. 


208         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

and  those  which  Government  maintains.  One  night  I 
went  to  see  "  Hamlet "  in  German.  The  acting  was 
poor,  but  the  audience  was  interesting. 

Besides  the  Bunsens  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  Dr. 
Abbott,  who  has  been  settled  here  for  fort}^  years,  and 
knows  Berlin  through  and  through.  Last  night  I 
dined  with  him  at  the  Zoological  Garden,  and  saw  a 
pretty  picture  of  Berlin  life.  To-morrow  I  am  going 
out  to  dine  at  Wansee  (which  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
Berlin  Brookline)  with  Baron  von  der  Heydt,  who  is 
going  to  have  some  of  the  Court  preachers  to  meet  me. 
A  good  many  other  people  have  called  on  me,  and 
talked  about  German  things  and  people ;  so  that  I  see 
all  I  want  to  see  of  folks,  and  the  days  are  only  too 
short.  Unfortunately,  the  university  is  closed,  and 
the  professors  are  all  off  on  vacations,  so  that  I  miss 
many  men  whom  I  should  like  to  see.  Indeed,  I  fear 
the  universities  all  through  Germany  meet  so  late, 
that  if  I  go  to  India  the  first  of  December  I  shall  be 
able  to  see  very  little  of  the  professors  and  to  hear 
hardly  any  lectures.  But  I  am  counting  much  on  In- 
dia. Yesterday  I  met  Lord  Amthill,  the  British  min- 
ister here,  and  he  offered  to  give  me  letters  to  the 
Earl  of  Ripon,  who  is  Governor-General  of  India,  and 
to  other  people  there,  which  will  insure  me  the  chance 
to  see  whatever  is  going  on.  What  a  tremendous  vic- 
tory Wolseley  has  gained  this  week  I  Now  Arabi  will 
not  block  my  way. 

Do  you  remember  the  little  statuettes  from  Tanagra 
which  are  in  our  Art  Museum  ?  There  are  a  great 
many  here  and  I  am  much  interested  in  them.  Yes- 
terday I  found  some  capital  reproductions  of  them, 
and  bought  three,  which  are  to  be  sent  you  by  mail. 
Well,  my  paper  is  full,  and  though  I  could  go  on  a 


WITTENBERG.  209 

week  about  Berlin,  I  stop.  I  am  just  going  down 
to  preach  at  a  little  American  chapel  which  is  here. 
I  shall  stay  about  a  week  longer,  and  then  travel 
through  Germany.  ...  P. 

Wittenberg,  Sunday,  September  24,  1882. 

My  dear  Agnes,  —  I  was  glad  to  get  your  letter, 
which  reached  me  a  few  days  ago  in  Berlin.  I  think 
you  were  very  good  indeed  to  write  me,  and  it  was  a 
nice  letter.  ... 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  Wittenberg  ?  You  will  find 
it  on  the  map,  not  very  far  from  Berlin.  It  used  to 
be  a  very  famous  place  when  Martin  Luther  lived 
here,  and  was  preaching  his  sermons  in  the  church 
whose  clock  I  just  now  heard  strike  a  quarter  of  one, 
and  was  writing  his  books  in  the  room  whose  picture 
is  at  the  top  of  this  sheet  of  paper.  I  am  sure  you 
know  all  about  Luther.  If  not,  ask  Toody,  she 
knows  most  everything.  In  the  picture,  you  can  see 
Luther's  table,  the  seat  in  the  window  where  he  and 
his  wife  used  to  sit  and  talk,  the  big  stove  which  he 
had  built  to  warm  his  cold  room,  and  the  bust  of  him- 
seK,  which  was  taken  just  after  he  died,  and  hung  up 
here.  With  the  exception  of  that,  everything  remains 
just  exactly  as  he  left  it,  over  three  hundred  years  ago, 
before  your  papa,  manrnia,  or  aunt  Susan  were  born. 

It  is  a  queer  old  town.  Just  now,  when  it  was 
twelve  o'clock,  I  heard  some  music,  and  looked  out 
and  found  that  a  band  of  music  was  playing  psalm 
tunes  away  up  in  the  air  in  the  tower  of  the  old  parish 
church.  My  window  looks  out  on  the  market-place, 
where  there  are  two  statues,  one  of  Luther,  and  one 
of  Melanchthon,  who  was  a  great  friend  of  his.  Ger- 
tie wiU   tell   you  about   him.      And  the  houses  are 


210         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

the  funniest  shape,  and  have  curious  mottoes  carved 
or  painted  over  their  front  door.  I  came  here  from 
Berlin  yesterday,  and  am  going  to  travel  about  in 
Germany  for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  go  back  to  Berlin 
again.  Berlin  is  very  nice.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you 
about  a  visit  which  I  made,  Friday,  to  one  of  the 
great  public  schools,  where  I  saw  a  thousand  boys  and 
a  thousand  girls,  and  the  way  they  spelt  the  hard 
words  in  German  woidd  have  frightened  you  to  death. 
Tell  Susie  that  I  thank  her  for  her  beautiful  little 
letter,  and  hope  she  will  write  me  another.  You  must 
write  to  me  again.  Give  my  best  love  to  everybody, 
and  do  not  forget  your  affectionate  uncle  P. 

Frankfurterhof,  Sunday,  October  1, 1882. 

Dear  William,  — ...  I  arrived  here  late  last 
night,  after  spending  the  whole  week  on  a  journey 
from  Berlin.  It  was  a  sort  of  Luther  journey,  for  I 
went  to  Eisleben,  where  he  was  born  and  died  ;  Mans- 
feld,  where  he  was  brought  up  ;  Erfurt,  where  he 
went  to  school ;  Wittenberg,  where  he  was  professor ; 
Eisenach  and  the  Wartburg,  where  he  was  a  prisoner ; 
Gotha,  Weimar,  Halle,  where  he  preached  ;  and  Mar- 
burg, where  he  had  his  great  disputation  with  Zwin- 
gli.  Here  in  Frankfort  there  is  a  house  of  his,  just 
opposite  the  Dom,  which,  by  the  way,  they  have  fin- 
ished repairing  and  have  re-opened.  I  went  to  service 
there  this  morning,  before  I  went  to  the  little  English 
chapel  where  you  and  I  went  five  years  ago. 

Besides  these  Luther  visits,  I  had  a  pleasant  day  at 
Halle,  with  Professor  Conrad,  professor  of  political 
economy,  to  whom  I  had  a  note  of  introduction,  who 
was  very  civil,  showing  me  all  over  the  university 
and  telling  me  all  that  I  wanted  to  know  about  it  and 


HEIDELBERG,  211 

the  students.  There,  too,  it  is  vacation.  None  of  the 
universities  begin  until  the  middle  of  October,  and 
many  of  them  not  until  the  first  of  November,  so  that 
I  shall  not  get  much  of  them.  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  Heidelberg,  where  I  hope  to  stay  some  time,  prob- 
ably two  or  three  weeks,  so  think  of  me  as  there  when 
you  get  this.  I  enjoyed  Berlin  exceedingly,  and 
foimd  the  people  most  courteous  and  obliging.  In- 
deed, I  made  some  friends  there,  especially  the  Bun- 
sens,  whom  I  was  very  sorry  to  leave.  I  may  possibly 
get  back  there,  but  it  is  not  likely.  India  draws  near. 
I  received  a  letter  from  the  Peninsular  and  Oriental 
Steamship  Company  last  week,  saying  they  had  re- 
served a  berth  for  me  on  the  steamer  which  leaves 
Venice  the  first  day  of  December. 

All  this  about  myseK.  I  wonder  how  it  is  with  you 
all.  Are  you  drowned  out  ?  And  is  General  Butler 
going  to  be  Governor  of  Massachusetts  ?  I  have  had 
no  letters  this  week,  but  shall  get  them  at  Heidelberg. 
Autumn  is  here  and  you  are  all  getting  back.  I  wish 
I  could  look  in  on  Boston  for  a  day.  .  .  . 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Heidelberg,  October  8, 1882. 

Dear  William,  —  I  suppose  that  Bishop  Williams 
is  preaching  to-day  at  Trinity,  so  you  are  all  consider- 
ably better  off  than  if  your  own  dear  pastor  were  at 
home.  .  .  . 

It  has  been  a  very  pleasant  week  for  me,  but  not 
an  eventful  one.  On  Monday  I  went  to  Giessen  and 
saw  the  university  and  one  or  two  of  the  professors. 
It  is  one  of  the  smaller  universities,  but  a  very  in- 
teresting one.  Then  I  went  to  Worms,  which  I  had 
seen  before,  but  at  which  I  wanted  to  get  another  look 


212         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

that  I  might  see  some  things  relating  to  Luther. 
From  there  I  came  to  beautiful  Heidelberg,  and  have 
been  here  since  Tuesday  night.  You  saw  Heidelberg, 
and  know  something  of  how  beautiful  it  is.  Just  now 
the  hill  on  which  the  castle  stands  is  one  mass  of 
splendid  color ;  almost  as  bright  as  anything  that  one 
sees  in  our  American  woods  are  the  trees  in  this  valley 
of  the  Neckar.  I  have  my  German  teacher  here  and 
the  use  of  a  library,  where  I  go  every  day,  so  I  am  far 
from  being  idle.  Here  probably  I  shall  stay  through 
this  week,  and  then  begin  slowly  to  work  back  to  Ber- 
lin, where  I  want  to  get  a  week  or  two  more  before  I 
start  for  the  south. 

Egypt  looks  now  as  if  one  might  find  his  way 
through,  but  there  are  great  difficulties  to  be  over- 
come before  the  question  of  its  government  is  settled, 
and  all  Europe  is  such  a  tinder-box  that  a  general  war 
may  be  lighted  at  any  moment.  Just  at  present  it 
does  not  seem  as  if  any  of  the  great  powers  wanted 
much  to  fight.  Certainly  Germany  does  not.  The 
general  feeling  among  her  people  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
dull  disappointment  with  the  results  of  the  last  war. 
It  has  not  brought  the  country  either  the  wealth  or 
the  freedom  that  they  hoped.  Germany  is  poor,  and 
Bismarck's  watchful  and  jealous  eye  is  on  everything. 
The  people  are  proud  of  their  splendid  army,  but  they 
feel  the  drain  of  it  tremendously.  .  .  . 

There  will  be  no  war  this  winter,  and  I  shall  go 
to  India  as  quietly  as  possible  in  December.  You 
must  be  just  about  getting  up  in  Boston.  Good-morn- 
ing to  you  aU ! 

Most  affectionately,         P. 


WURTZBURG.  213 

WuRTZBURG,  October  15, 1882. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  I  owe  you  a  letter ;  indeed,  I 
am  afraid  that  I  owe  you  more  than  one,  but  we  won't 
be  very  particular  about  that.  You  shall  write  as 
often  as  you  can,  and  so  will  I,  and  then  we  will  call 
it  square. 

You  ought  to  have  a  great  deal  more  to  say  than  I, 
because  Boston  is  a  great  deal  livelier  place  than 
Wurtzburg,  and  besides  you  have  lived  in  Boston  all 
your  life,  and  know  lots  of  people  there  whom  I  should 
like  to  hear  about  (including  Susie),  while  I  have  been 
here  only  since  yesterday,  and  know  but  one  person  ; 
and  you  would  not  care  to  hear  about  him,  for  he  is 
only  a  stupid  old  professor.  But  you  would  like  to  go 
down  the  queer  old  streets  and  see  the  funny  houses  ; 
and  you  would  have  liked  to  see  the  big  church 
crowded  with  people,  that  I  saw  this  afternoon,  and 
heard  them  sing  as  if  they  would  shake  all  the  carved 
and  painted  saints  down  off  the  walls.  I  wish  that 
once  before  I  die  I  could  hear  the  people  sing  like 
that  in  Trinity  Church  in  Boston.  But  I  never  shall. 
It  was  a  great  day  in  the  church  here  to-day,  because 
it  was  the  thousandth  anniversary  of  the  death  of  the 
man  who  built  the  first  church  here  long  before  you 
were  born,  and  so  they  had  a  great  procession,  and 
went  down  into  the  crypt  under  the  church,  where  he 
is  buried,  and  sung  a  Te  Deum.  I  wish  you  had  been 
there  with  me. 

Then  there  is  a  tremendous  great  palace  where  the 
bishops  used  to  live.  .  .  .  Nobody  lives  there  now,  be- 
cause bishops  are  not  such  great  people  as  they  used 
to  be  ;  but  you  can  go  through  it  all,  and  see  the 
splendid  rooms,  and  there  is  the  loveliest  old  garden 
behind  it,  with  fountains  and   statues   and  beautiful 


214         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

old  trees,  where  the  people  go  and  walk  about  on 
pleasant  afternoons,  and  a  band  plays.  If  you  and 
I  ever  spend  an  afternoon  in  Wurtzburg,  we  will  go 
there. 

I  wonder  if  you  have  been  at  Trinity  to-day,  and 
who  preached,  and  whether  you  know  the  text,  and 
whether  Sunday-school  has  begun. 

I  am  on  my  way  from  Heidelberg  to  Berlin.  After 
I  have  stayed  there  for  a  week  or  two,  I  shall  go  to 
Dresden  and  Prague  and  Vienna  and  Venice,  and  I 
have  got  a  ticket  to  sail  in  the  Poonah  from  Venice 
for  Bombay  on  the  first  day  of  December.  It  is  not 
as  pretty  a  name  as  the  Servia,  and  the  ship  is  only 
about  half  as  big ;  but  she  is  a  very  good  vessel,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  she  will  get  out  there  safely  before 
Christmas.  I  wish  you  would  come  to  Venice  and  see 
me  off,  as  you  did  to  New  York.  Good-night  and 
pleasant  dreams.  Give  my  love  to  everybody  and 
don't  forget 

Your  affectionate  uncle  Phillips. 

Hotel  du  Nord,  Beklin,  October  22,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  Just  think  of  its  being  four 
months  ago  yesterday  since  you  saw  the  Servia  sail. 
More  than  a  quarter  of  my  long  vacation  gone. 
Why,  I  shall  be  walking  in  on  you  before  you  know 
it !  And  when  I  hear  the  report  of  the  first  Simday 
of  October  at  Trinity,  and  all  about  Bishop  Beckwith's 
long  and  eloquent  sermon,  it  seems  as  if  I  were  within 
speaking  distance  of  you  all  the  time. 

I  reached  here  yesterday,  after  one  of  the  pleasantest 
journeys  I  have  ever  made.  Now  it  seems  like  getting 
home,  to  come  to  this  familiar  Berlin  again.  The  folks 
seem  to  recognize  me  upon  the  streets,  and  all  the 


BERLIN,  215 

swell  guards  about  the  royal  palace  looked  as  if  they 
wanted  to  salute  me,  but  were  not  quite  sure  that  it 
was  right.  I  spent  three  days  this  last  week  at  Leip- 
sic.  It  is  a  very  curious  town,  full  of  business,  I  be- 
lieve, but  apparently  given  up  to  music  and  education. 
The  hosts  of  students  on  the  streets,  and  the  multi- 
tudes of  concerts  everywhere,  seem  to  shut  out  every- 
thing else.  I  actually  went  to  two  concerts  myseK, 
one  of  them  a  high  Wagner  affair,  with  the  most  se- 
lect and  high-toned  musical  audience.  I  thought  I 
should  be  glad  to  see  what  it  was  like,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  I  rather  liked  it.  I  saw  one  or  two 
professors,  who  were  very  civil,  and  showed  me  all 
there  was  to  see.  It  is  rather  a  depressing  place,  I 
think,  to  one  who  is  conscious  of  knowing  nothing  in 
particular,  and  having  only  a  general  smattering  of 
a  lot  of  things.  Everybody  there  is  a  specialist.  One 
man  is  giving  himself  up  to  Arabic,  another  to  San- 
skrit, another  to  cuneiform  inscriptions,  and  another 
to  a  particular  sort  of  bug.  So  every  man  has  some 
subject,  on  which  he  talks  you  out  of  your  depth  in 
half  a  minute.  It  must  be  a  delightful  thing  to  think 
that  you  know  anything,  however  small,  through  and 
through.  If  I  were  twenty-five  years  younger,  and 
not  minister  of  Trinity  Church,  I  should  go  to  Leip- 
sic  and  stay  there  till  I  knew  something,  so  that  no 
scholar  in  the  world  could  puzzle  me.  Then  I  would 
come  home  and  go  into  general  life  with  that  one  lit- 
tle corner  of  omniscience  always  kept  to  fall  back 
upon  when  I  was  reminded  in  some  one  of  the  ways 
(in  which  I  am  constantly  reminded)  of  what  an  igno- 
ramus I  am.  But  it  is  no  use  now.  And  I  must  go 
on  with  my  basket  of  broken  victuals  to  the  end. 
So  you  are  back  in  Boston,  and  the  summer  was  a 


216         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

great  success.  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  Who  knows  but 
some  day  the  old  Andover  house  may  be  our  summer 
home,  as  a  fixed  thmg,  with  a  pretty  little  establish- 
ment that  will  make  summer  as  domestic  and  regular 
a  time  as  winter.  It  would  certainly  not  be  bad. 
I  am  glad  the  children  were  pleased  with  the  book. 
I  thought  they  might  like  it.    ... 

Affectionately,  P. 

H6tbl  du  Nord,  Berlin,  October  29, 1882. 

Dear  William,  —  How  the  weeks  go,  don't  they  ? 
It  seems  impossible  that  seven  days  have  slipped  by 
since  I  wrote  you  last  Sunday.  But  they  have,  and 
they  have  been  very  pleasant  ones  here.  Delightful 
weather,  —  a  sort  of  Indian  summer,  such  as  we  used  to 
look  for  in  Boston,  and  never  quite  knew  whether  we 
had  it  or  not.  I  can  hear  father  and  aunt  Susan  at 
the  old  table  in  Rowe  Street,  debating  about  it  now, 

Berlin  is  quite  different  on  my  return  from  what  it 
was  when  I  left  it.  The  people  are  back,  the  streets 
are  crowded,  and  everything  is  in  full  blast.  The 
university  lectures  began  last  Monday,  and  there  are 
no  end  of  them  all  the  time.  It  is  the  freest  sort 
of  institution.  The  doors  of  every  lecture-room  stand 
wide  open,  and  any  stranger  may  go  in.  This  week  I 
have  been  like  a  college  student,  going  to  hear  what 
the  great  men  have  to  say  about  theology  and  other 
things.  I  have  German  enough  now  to  follow  a  lec- 
ture quite  satisfactorily,  and  you  do  not  know  how  I 
enjoy  it.  Of  course  I  have  not  taken  up  any  sys- 
tematic course  of  attendance.  My  time  is  too  short 
for  that.  I  only  roam  round  and  pick  up  what  I  can 
and  fill  it  out  with  reading  from  the  books  of  the  same 
men,  a  good  many  of  which  I  have.     There  are  four 


BERLIN.  217 

thousand  other  students  here  in  Berlin,  so  that  one 
can  go  and  come  in  the  great  university  quite  as  he 
pleases,  and  be  entirely  unnoticed. 

A  good  many  people  who  were  away  when  I  was 
here  before  have  come  back,  so  that  I  have  as  much 
social  life  as  I  want.  The  Bunsens  have  gone  to  Eng- 
land, but  Dr.  Abbott  is  here.  I  go  there  when  I  feel 
like  it,  and  always  meet  pleasant  people.  Then  there 
is  a  certain  Dr.  Kapp,  who  used  to  live  in  New  York, 
and  is  now  a  member  of  Parliament  here,  who  has 
been  very  civil;  Professor  Hermann  Grimm,  who 
wrote  the  Life  of  Michael  Angelo  and  other  things, 
and  one  of  the  university  provosts.  Dr.  Gneist,  who 
styles  himself  on  his  card  "  Oberverwaltungsgerichts- 
rath^'^  — that 's  his  title. 

It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  how  quietly  and  simply 
these  scholars  live,  and  what  cordial,  earnest  folks 
they  are.  I  have  also  seen  something  of  the  ministers, 
but  I  do  not  think  I  like  them  so  much  as  the  scholars. 
German  religion  seems  to  be  eaten  up  with  controversy, 
and  is  hampered  everywhere  by  its  connection  with 
the  state.  There  is  a  certain  Pastor  Stocke  here,  at 
whose  house  I  have  been,  who  is  the  political  character 
of  the  town.  .  .  .  He  and  the  rest  are  doing  very  good 
work  among  the  poor. 

They  have  just  been  having  an  election  for  members 
of  the  Reichstag,  or  Parliament,  which  has  been  very 
interesting  to  follow  in  the  papers  and  in  the  talk  of 
the  people,  though  one  saw  nothing  to  indicate  elec- 
tion day  in  the  streets. 

This  week  I  leave  here  for  good,  and  go  to  Dresden, 
where  I  shall  get  a  week  for  art.  The  beautiful  gal- 
lery there  I  have  never  thoroughly  seen.  I  shall  have 
my  books  too,  and  do  some  studying.     Then  Vienna, 


218         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

where  there  are  splendid  pictures  also,  then  Venice 
and  India. 

My  heart  stood  still  for  a  minute  the  other  day 
when  I  opened  the  paper  which  you  sent  me  and  saw 
"  Trinity  Church  on  Fire."  When  I  found  that  they 
had  put  it  out  and  that  it  was  only  going  to  cost  the 
Corporation  §50,  I  sang  a  small  Te  Deum,  and  con- 
cluded to  go  on  with  my  journey.  Thank  you  for  all 
your  letters.  They  always  tell  me  just  what  I  want  to 
know,  and  cheer  me  immensely.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Think  of  me  on  Thanksgiving  Day  in  Venice. 
I  shall  think  of  you  and  wish  that  we  were  all  in 
Clarendon  Street.  My  love  to  M and  the  chil- 
dren. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  du  Nord,  Berlin,  October  30, 1882. 

Johnny  dear,  —  I  don't  want  to  break  up  my  life 
in  Berlin,  as  I  shall  in  a  few  days,  without  writing  to 
you  from  what  has  become  very  like  home  to  me. 
How  I  wish  you  were  here  this  morning.  First,  we 
would  have  a  quiet  after-breakfast  smoke  and  talk, 
then  we  would  put  on  our  hats  and  stroll  across  the 
street  to  the  university,  where  there  are  some  forty 
lecture-rooms,  a  professor  hard  at  work  in  each  of 
them,  and  the  whole  thing  open  to  anybody  who  chooses 
to  drop  in.  We  could  hear  Dillman  firing  away  at 
the  Old  Testament,  Weiss  exegesing  on  St.  Luke's 
Gospel,  Pfleiderer  discoursing  on  the  Philosophy  of 
Religion,  or  Steinmeyer  haranguing  on  Church  His- 
tory. Hengstenberg  is  dead,  and  so  is  Baumgarten- 
Crusius,  your  friend.  There  are  plenty  more  of  them 
left,  and  if  we  grew  tired  of  Berlin  to-day,  why  we 
could  run  down  to  Leipsic  to-morrow,  where  the  the* 


BERLIN.  219 

ology  is  rather  richer  than  it  is  here,  and  where  we 
could  hear  Luthardt  and  Delitzsch.  We  should  not 
understand  all  that  these  men  said,  but  a  great  deal  of 
it  would  be  clear  enough,  and  there  would  be  lots  to 
think  and  talk  about  when  we  came  out.  Then  after 
an  hour  or  two  of  this  we  would  go  into  the  Thiergar- 
ten,  the  most  fascinating  park  in  Europe,  and  perfectly 
delightful  on  these  Indian  summer  days.  There  we 
would  wander  about  and  talk  some  more.  We  would 
come  home  to  a  queer  dinner  at  four  o'clock,  and, 
if  you  liked,  at  half  past  six  we  could  go  to  the  thea- 
tre and  see  a  play  of  Schiller,  or,  if  you  preferred,  go 
to  see  some  pleasant  people,  who  are  abundant  and 
always  hospitable  in  this  cheerful,  busy  town.  Then 
we  'd  come  home  and  smoke  and  talk  some  more  ever 
so  late.  You  must  come  quickly,  or  we  cannot  do 
this,  because  I  am  starting  Wednesday,  —  bound  for 
Dresden,  Vienna,  and  Venice,  whence  I  sail  on  the 
1st  of  December. 

It  has  all  been  very  delightful  and  wholly  different 
from  any  experience  which  I  have  ever  had  before  in 
Europe.  I  shall  remember  Berlin  and  many  of  the 
people  in  it  with  delight.  There  are  hosts  of  Amer- 
ican students  here,  but  they  hide  themselves  in  Ger- 
man families  as  much  as  possible,  and  one  sees  little 
of  them.  There  is  much  work  being  done,  and  the 
thoroughness  of  their  real  scholars  makes  me  feel 
awfully  superficial  and  ashamed. 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  how  very  successful  your 
house  and  your  summer  have  been.  I  hope  that  they 
have  put  you  in  splendid  condition  for  the  winter. 
.  .  .  Another  year  I  shall  be  there  again,  and  mean- 
while you  will  tell  me  all  about  it,  won't  you?  I 
think  the  beauty  of  being  here  for  a  while  is  that  it 


220         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

makes  the   things  at   home  which   really  are  worth 
caring  for  seem  all  the  more  precious. 

Now  I  am  going  out  to  hear  a  lecture,  then  I  shall 
go  into  the  Gallery  for  an  hour,  then  take  a  German 
lesson,  and  get  a  little  more  of  this  good  place  before  I 
leave  it.  Think  of  me  often,  and  be  sure  I  think  of 
you.    .    .   .  My  love  to  Hattie  and  the  babies. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

H6tel  Bellevue,  Dresden, 
November  5,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  The  scene  is  changed,  and  this 
is  Dresden,  instead  of  Berlin.  I  left  that  big  town  for 
good  on  Thursday,  and  shall  not  see  it  again ;  but  I 
have  had  a  first-rate  time  there,  and  shall  remember 
it  most  pleasantly.  Dresden  is  prettier  than  Berlin, 
and  the  Sistine  Madonna  is  over  there  in  the  Museum, 
so  I  am  enjoying  a  few  days  here  very  much  indeed. 
I  get  a  good  deal  of  time  for  reading  my  German,  and 
am  just  beginning  to  get  up  the  books  on  India,  which 
now  seems  to  be  drawing  very  near. 

I  have  no  friends  here,  except  one  or  two  families, 
to  whom  my  Berlin  friends  introduced  me,  but  that 
does  not  so  much  matter  for  a  few  days.  Robert 
Gushing  and  his  family  are  staying  in  this  hotel. 
Henry  Potter,  his  wife  and  three  children,  are  living 
in  town.  I  dined  with  them  last  night.  This  morn- 
ing I  preached  at  the  American  church,  and  this 
evening  I  have  promised  to  preach  for  the  Scotch 
Presbyterians,  so  it  is  rather  more  like  Sunday  than 
any  first  day  of  the  week  that  I  have  passed  for  a 
good  while.  I  shall  leave  here  probably  Wednesday, 
and  after  stopping  a  few  days  in  Prague,  shall  go  to 
Vienna,  where  I  hope  to  make  a  considerable  stay. 


PRAGUE.  221 

Think  of  me  there  when  you  get  this  letter.  Of  course 
you  have  seen  the  terrible  accounts  of  the  floods  on 
the  southern  side  of  the  Tyrolese  mountains.  Among 
their  smaller  mischiefs,  they  make  the  access  to  Ven- 
ice very  uncertain,  so  that  I  am  not  quite  sure  how  I 
shall  get  at  my  steamer.  I  shall  get  there  somehow, 
probably  by  rail  from  Vienna  to  Trieste,  and  thence 
by  sea  to  Venice. 

Your  last  letter  brought  things  at  home  up  to  the 
16th  of  October.  Perry  had  just  preached  in  Trin- 
ity. Does  it  not  seem  strange  to  think  how  long 
ago  it  was  that  he  used  to  be  with  Dr.  Vinton  at 
St.  Paul's,  and  that  we  are  the  same  fellows  as  the 
boys  who  used  to  listen  to  him  there  ?  The  minister 
of  the  American  church,  for  whom  I  preached  to-day, 
is  a  Mr.  Caskey,  who  succeeded  Arthur  in  Williams- 
port.  What  a  time  we  would  have  before  the  Ma- 
donna to-morrow,  if  you  were  only  here ;  the  concerts 
and  operas  in  Dresden  are  tremendous.  No  matter  ; 
some  day  when  I  get  back  we  will  go  to  the  Art  Mu- 
seum and  the  Music  Hall  together,  and  make  believe 
that  it  is  pretty  little  Dresden.  .  .  . 

Prague,  November  12,  1882. 
.  .  .  You  never  saw  Prague,  did  you  ?  You  must 
some  day.  It  is  immensely  curious  and  picturesque. 
It  is  Austrian,  and  Austria  is  poor  stuff  by  the  side  of 
Germany.  Austria  really  seems  to  be  no  nation  at 
all,  made  up  as  it  is  of  a  heap  of  people  and  languages, 
which  have  no  association  with  each  other.  Germany 
has  ideas,  and  a  great  notion  of  her  future,  and  of 
having  a  mission  in  the  world.  All  that  makes  her 
interesting.  Austria  has  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  her 
petty  tyranny  is  endless.     These  riots  in  Vienna  are 


222        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

signs  of  what  a  suppressed  and  discontented  life  her 
people  lead.  But  still  she  is  worth  seeing,  and  for 
two  weeks  I  shall  be  on  her  soil.  Thanksgiving  Day 
I  spend  in  Venice,  and  the  next  day  the  Poonah  sails, 
so  think  of  me  as  you  eat  your  turkey,  dining  at  Dani- 
elis,  and  direct  your  letters  after  you  get  this,  until 
further  notice,  to  the  care  of  Messrs.  Lang,  Moir  & 
Co.,  Bombay. 

Will  you  do  an  errand  for  me  ?  Will  you  go  into 
Williams's  and  get  two  copies  of  my  "  Influence  of 
Jesus"  and  send  them  to  some  Berlin  friends,  to 
whom  I  have  promised  them  ? 


Gkand  Hotel,  Vienna,  November  19,  1882. 
Very  private  I ! 
Dear  Gertie,  —  This  letter  is  an  awful  secret  be- 
tween you  and  me.  If  you  tell  anybody  about  it,  I  will 
not  speak  to  you  all  this  winter.  And  this  is  what  it 
is  about.  You  know  Christmas  is  coming,  and  I  am 
afraid  that  I  shall  not  get  home  by  that  time,  and  so 
I  want  you  to  go  and  get  the  Christmas  presents  for  the 
children.  The  grown  people  will  not  get  any  from  me 
this  year.  But  I  do  not  want  the  children  to  go  with- 
out, so  you  must  find  out,  in  the  most  secret  way,  just 
what  Agnes  and  Toodie  would  most  like  to  have,  and 
get  it  and  put  it  in  their  stockings  on  Christmas  Eve. 
Then  you  must  ask  yourself  what  you  want,  but  with- 
out letting  yourself  know  about  it,  and  get  it  too,  and 
put  it  in  your  own  stocking,  and  be  very  much  sur- 
prised when  you  find  it  there.  And  then  you  must 
sit  down  and  think  about  Josephine  De  Wolf  and  the 
other  baby  at  Springfield  whose  name  I  do  not  know, 
and  consider  what  they  would  like,  and  have  it  sent 


VIENNA,  223 

to  them  in  time  to  reach  them  on  Christmas  Eve. 
Will  you  do  all  this  for  me  ?  You  can  spend  five  dol- 
lars for  each  child,  and  if  you  show  your  father  this 
letter,  he  will  give  you  the  money  out  of  some  of  mine 
which  he  has  got.  That  rather  breaks  the  secret,  but 
you  will  want  to  consult  your  father  and  mother  about 
what  to  get,  especially  for  the  Springfield  children  ;  so 
you  may  tell  them  about  it,  but  do  not  dare  to  let  any 
of  the  children  know  of  it  until  Christmas  time.  Then 
you  can  tell  me  in  your  Christmas  letter  just  how  you 
have  managed  about  it  all.  .  .  . 

This  has  taken  up  almost  all  my  letter,  and  so  I 
cannot  tell  you  much  about  Vienna.  Well,  there  is 
not  a  great  deal  to  tell.  It  is  an  immense  great  city 
with  very  splendid  houses  and  beautiful  pictures  and 
fine  shops  and  handsome  people.  But  I  do  not  think 
the  Austrians  are  nearly  as  nice  as  the  ugly,  honest 
Germans.     Do  you  ? 

Perhaps  you  will  get  this  on  Thanksgiving  Day.  If 
you  do,  you  must  shake  the  turkey's  paw  for  me,  and 
tell  him  that  I  am  very  sorry  I  could  not  come  this 
year,  but  I  shall  be  there  next  year  certain !  Give 
my  love  to  all  the  children.  I  had  a  beautiful  letter 
from  aunt  Susan  the  other  day,  which  I  am  going  to 
answer  as  soon  as  it  stops  raining.  Tell  her  so,  if  you 
see  her.  Be  a  good  girl,  and  do  not  study  too  hard, 
and  keep  our  secret. 

Your  affectionate  uncle         Phillips. 

Grand  Hotel,  Vienna,  November  22,  1882. 

Dear  aunt  Susan,  —  No  letter  since  I  left  home 
has  given  me  more  pleasure  than  yours  which  I  re- 
ceived a  week  ago.  It  took  me  back  into  North  An- 
dover,  and  made  me  feel  as  if  we  were  aU  in  the  little 


224         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND   INDIA. 

parlor,  and  the  Austrian  town  which  I  could  see  out 
of  the  window  were  all  a  dream.  You  were  very 
good  indeed  to  keep  your  promise,  and  I  hope  I  shall 
hear  from  you  more  than  once  again  before  I  drive 
up  to  the  side  yard  door  next  autumn. 

.  .  .  We  had  a  small  snowstoi-m  here  yesterday, 
and  to-day  the  hills  around  Vienna  are  all  white  with 
snow.  I  wish  you  could  escape  the  winter,  as  I  mean 
to  do,  by  running  down  into  countries  where  the  only 
trouble  about  winter  weather  is  the  heat.  The  second 
week  in  December,  when  you  get  this,  and  when  the 
whole  of  North  Andover  is  shivering  with  cold,  we 
shall  be  running  down  the  Red  Sea  and  trying  to  get 
into  the  shade  of  anything  to  keep  ourselves  cool,  and 
looking  over  the  side  of  the  Poonah  to  see  if  we  can 
see  any  of  Pharaoh's  chariot-wheels. 

It  is  eighteen  years  since  I  was  in  Vienna,  on  my 
first  European  journey.  Then  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Palestine.  One  difference  between  that  year  abroad 
and  this  I  feel  all  the  time.  Then  the  old  home  in 
Chauncy  Street  was  still  there,  and  father  and  mother 
were  both  waiting  to  hear  what  one  was  doing,  and 
one  of  my  pleasures  was  to  write  to  them  and  to  think 
how  I  would  tell  them  all  about  it  when  I  got  back.  I 
miss  all  that  part  of  the  interest  of  travel  very  much 
now.  Sometimes  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  they  are 
not  still  there,  and  that  I  am  not  to  write  to  them.  At 
this  distance  all  that  has  come  since  I  was  here  before 
seems  like  a  dream. 

I  hope  by  Christmas  that  the  window  in  their  mem- 
ory will  be  in  the  little  church.  William  writes  me 
that  it  is  getting  on,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  that 
it  is  fairly  in  its  place.  I  hope  it  will  be  there  for 
years  to  keep  people  reminded  of  them.    You  must  tell 


VENICE.  225 

me  how  you  like  it  when  it  is  up.  It  seems  as  if  we 
came  pretty  near  losing  Trinity  Church  lately  by  fire. 
It  would  have  been  a  pretty  hard  thing  to  have  to  go  to 
work  and  build  it  all  up  again.  As  it  is,  they  seem  to 
be  having  trouble  with  it  in  the  way  of  repairs.  I 
hope  your  new  church  will  tempt  no  incendiaries  and 
meet  no  accidents. 

If  I  were  in  Boston  I  would  come  up  to  Andover  this 
afternoon.  But  as  I  am  in  Vienna,  I  can  only  send 
this  letter  to  tell  you  I  am  thinking  of  you.  My  best 
love  to  aunt  Sarah  and  aunt  Caroline. 

Your  affectionate  nephew  Phillips. 

Veotcb,  November  26,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  It  is  a  rainy  Sunday  in  Venice, 
which,  as  you  may  imagine,  is  not  a  very  cheerful 
thing.  The  gondolas  are  dripping  at  the  quay  out- 
side, and  San  Giorgio  looks  dull  and  dreary  through 
the  mists.  .  .  .  Now  that  I  have  come  home,  and  have 
got  a  fire  in  my  room,  spread  out  my  German  books, 
and  lighted  my  pipe,  everything  is  cheerful  inside, 
however  dreary  the  outside  may  be.  I  have  just  come 
here  to  get  a  few  quiet  days  of  Venice,  before  the 
Poonah  sails.  She  is  here,  lying  in  the  harbor ;  and 
I  have  been  on  board  and  looked  her  over.  She  is  a 
beautiful,  great  vessel,  with  a  big,  broad  deck  and  a 
bright,  pleasant  cabin,  looking  as  if  she  might  be  a 
capital  home  for  three  weeks.  .  .  . 

My  stateroom  is  on  deck,  with  air  all  around  it,  and 
I  have  it  to  myself,  so  I  am  counting  very  much  upon 
my  voyage.  How  I  wish  you  were  going  to  take  it 
with  me  !  What  delightful  days  and  nights  we  would 
have  down  the  Red  Sea  and  across  the  Indian  Ocean ! 
The  officers  of  the  ship  say  that  at  this  season  the  ther- 


226         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

mometer  does  not  go  above  seventy,  even  in  the  Red 
Sea,  and  that  there  is  never  any  chance  of  bad 
weather  in  December  between  Suez  and  Bombay.  It 
seems  to  be  the  very  perfection  of  ship  life.  .  .  . 

I  had  a  very  good  time  in  Vienna,  where  I  stayed 
about  a  week.  I  do  not  think  I  like  the  city  much, 
certainly  not  as  well  as  Berlin.  But  then  I  knew 
none  of  the  people,  which  made  a  difference.  The 
Brimmers  were  there  part  of  the  time,  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  see  them.  Also  Judge  Endicott  and  his 
family,  who  were  at  the  hotel  all  the  time  I  was  there. 
I  am  very  sorry  Mr.  Brimmer  could  not  go  to  India. 
...  I  shall  go  alone  now,  unless  possibly  a  young 
collegian  of  this  last  class  at  Cambridge,  a  friend  of 
Arthur's,  Evert  Wendell,  should  go  on  the  same 
steamer.  I  saw  him  in  Berlin,  and  he  wants  to  go  and 
has  sent  to  ask  his  father's  leave. 

.  .  .  The  Venetians  are  going  to  have  a  great  fete 
and  concert  to-night  and  to-morrow  in  the  piazza,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  sufferers  by  the  floods.  A  month 
ago  the  whole  ground  floor  of  this  hotel  was  three  feet 
under  water.  I  wish  you  would  go  to  India  with 
me.  .  .  . 


Steamship  Poonah,  lying  at  Bbindisi, 
Sunday,  December  3,  1882. 

Dear  "William,  —  ...  The  Poonah  is  an  old  ship, 
rather  noisy,  not  at  all  fast,  and  not  very  clean.  But 
she  is  well  arranged,  and  in  good  weather  must  be 
very  pleasant.  The  sail  from  Venice  to  Brindisi 
has  been  cold,  rough,  and  rainy.  The  Adriatic  has 
behaved  badly.  We  could  not  touch  at  Ancona, 
which  is  on  the  programme,  because  of  the  rough 
weather.     This  Sunday  morning  is  bright,  but  cold 


IN  THE  SUEZ  CANAL.  227 

and  windy ;  not  a  bit  of  suggestion  of  the  tropics  yet. 
In  a  day  or  two  we  shall  get  it,  and  I  only  hope  we 
shall  not  get  too  much.  The  people  on  the  Poonah, 
so  far,  are  not  very  interesting,  but  they  are  only  a 
few.  The  best  are  supposed  to  come  on  board  here  at 
Brindisi,  having  come  by  rail  from  London,  so  I  hope 
when  we  sail  to-morrow  morning,  we  shall  find  our- 
selves in  the  midst  of  that  delightful  society  which 
the  voyage  to  India  has  always  been  said  to  furnish. 
Young  Wendell  is  on  board,  having  turned  up  at  the 
last  moment  in  Venice.  He  makes  bright,  pleasant 
company,  and  we  shall  probably  be  together  through 
India. 

Thanksgiving  Day  passed  quietly  in  Venice.  I  did 
not  preaxjh,  or  even  go  to  church,  except  to  pay  a  fare- 
well visit  to  St.  Mark's.  I  dined  with  the  Walleys. 
They  are  staying  in  Venice,  keeping  house  in  an  apart- 
ment, and  asked  me  to  dine  with  them.  We  had  a 
turkey,  and  did  the  best  we  could  to  keep  Thanks- 
giving, and  it  went  off  well.    .   .   . 

Think  of  the  Poonah,  when  you  get  this,  as  paddling 
across  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  wave  your  hat  in  that 
direction.  I  shall  see  it  and  wave  mine  back.  A 
happy  Christmas  to  you  all.  Now  I  am  going  on 
shore  to  see  Brindisi. 

Steamship  Poonah,  in  the  Suez  Canal, 
December  9,  1882. 

Dear  Johnny,  —  You  do  not  know  what  a  queer- 
looking  thing  this  big  ditch  is,  with  the  long  stretches 
of  sand  reaching  out  on  either  side,  and  the  curious 
effects  of  light  everywhere  in  the  distance,  and  the 
superb  blue  sky,  and  our  great  steamer  slowly  plodding 
along  at  about  six  miles  an  hour  towards  the  Red  Sea, 


228         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

And  inside  the  steamer  it  is  just  as  queer,  a  host  of 
wild-looking  ruffians  for  sailors,  and  a  lot  of  English- 
men. It  is  all  very  pleasant  and  foreign.  I  have 
been  up  on  deck  all  the  morning,  looking  at  the 
strange  figures  who  occasionally  appear  on  the  banks, 
watching  the  steamboats  which  pass  us  every  now  and 
then,  and  talking  with  the  Englishmen  who  are  men- 
tioned above.  I  have  got  a  little  tired  of  it  all,  so  I 
thought  I  would  come  down  into  the  cabin  and  send 
you  a  greeting  which  I  will  mail  to-night  at  Suez,  and 
which  you  will  get  abnost,  if  not  quite,  in  time  to  wish 
you  a  Merry  Christmas  ! 

What  are  you  doing  ?  Every  now  and  then  there 
comes  some  glimpse  of  the  old  life  going  on  at  home. 
Sermons  and  convocations  and  clubs,  and  the  winter 
season  with  its  work  gradually  thickening  around 
you.  .  .  . 

I  wonder  who  will  be  up  to  the  mark  of  honestly 
admiring  A.  V.  G.  Allen's  remarkable  paper  in  the 
"  Princeton  Review,"  and  seeing  how  the  change  which 
he  has  described  so  ably  is  every  whit  as  important 
and  significant  as  the  reformation  of  three  hundred 
years  ago.  Surely  the  club  and  the  church  ought  to 
be  proud  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  article. 

Have  you  got  some  good  carols  for  Christmas,  and 
a  good  text  for  your  Christmas  sermon  ?  I  feel  al- 
most like  writing  one  myself  and  asking  some  Hindoo 
in  Bombay  to  lend  me  his  mosque  in  which  to  preach  it. 

I  hope  you  went  to  the  December  club,  and  that  it 
was  a  success.  I  shall  hear  all  about  it  in  India  and 
will  tell  Chunder  Sen.  We  are  getting  to  Ismailia, 
and  I  must  go  up  on  deck  and  see.  Good-by.  A 
Merry  Christmas  and  God  bless  you  to  you  and  Hattie 
3,nd  the  children.  Ever  affectionately,  P. 


SUEZ.  229 

Suez,  Sunday  Morning,  December  10,  1882. 

Dear  William,  —  We  are  just  tying  up  to  the 
wharf  in  Suez,  and  nobody  seems  to  know  how  long 
we  are  to  stay  before  we  start  on  our  voyage  down  the 
Red  Sea.  I  will  write  my  Sunday  letter  at  once,  and 
tell  you  that  I  have  come  thus  far  in  happiness,  health, 
and  safety,  and  in  the  Poonah.  I  sent  Gertie  a  postal 
card  the  other  day  from  Alexandria,  which  I  hope  she 
will  excuse.  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  sending  postal 
cards,  but  there  was  no  other  way.  We  were  only 
there  for  a  very  short  time  and  all  the  time  we  had 
was  spent  on  shore.  It  was  curious  to  see  the  results 
of  the  war  so  close  at  hand.  The  great  square  of 
Alexandria  is  all  in  ruins,  and  looks  like  Liberty 
Square  in  Boston  after  the  great  fire.  The  forts  which 
brought  on  the  bombardment  are  all  banged  to  pieces, 
and  the  guns  are  standing  on  their  heads.  There 
must  have  been  some  wonderful  firing  on  the  English- 
men's part. 

Then  we  sailed  over  to  Port  Said,  the  steamer  roll- 
ing about  badly  in  the  long  swell.  There  was  plenty 
of  room  at  the  dinner-table  on  Thursday.  Port  Said 
looks  as  I  remember  seeing  Lawrence  look  when  father 
took  us  there  from  grandmother's,  one  day  when  we 
were  boys.  It  is  an  extemporized  town  of  shanties  and 
cheap  buildings,  with  everything  to  sell,  which  it  is 
supposed  that  uncomfortable  and  extravagant  travelers 
wiU  buy.  Only  the  population  does  not  look  like 
Lawrence  people.  They  are  brown  Egyptians  and 
Nubians  as  black  as  coals,  and  a  few  British  soldiers 
with  white  pith  helmets  and  red  coats. 

The  sail  down  the  canal  has  been  delightful.  The 
air  was  fresh  and  bright  as  spring,  yet  had  the  warmth 
of  summer  in  it.     The  atmosphere  was  delightful,  and 


230         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

though  we  sometimes  ran  between  high  banks  of  sand, 
which  hid  everything,  most  of  the  time  the  view  was 
made  up  of  long  stretches  of  desert,  reaching  away  to 
distant  hills,  with  effect  of  light  and  color  on  them,  all 
which  were  beautiful.  This  morning  I  saw  out  of  my 
stateroom  window  a  glorious  sunrise,  just  such  as  the 
children  of  Israel  must  have  seen  on  their  famous  trip 
from  Egypt  into  Palestine  some  years  ago.  We  passed 
yesterday  Ismailia,  where  the  British  headquarters 
were  this  autumn,  and  saw  the  way  they  started  to 
Tel  El  Kebir.  And  there  we  heard  of  the  verdict  in 
Arabi's  case,  about  which  nobody  seemed  to  care. 

Now  we  really  start  upon  our  voyage.  -Up  to  this 
point  has  been  mere  preparation.  Here  the  passengers 
for  Australia  and  Calcutta  leave  us,  and  we  take  on 
board  the  passengers  for  Bombay,  who  have  come  all 
the  way  by  sea  from  London.  We  shall  be  quite  a 
new  company.  We  have  lost  two  or  three  days  by 
having  to  go  through  the  canal,  and  shall  not  be  in 
Bombay  certainly  before  the  22d,  perhaps  not  till  later. 
I  like  the  ship,  the  people,  the  life  on  board,  and  all  is 
going  beautifully.     Merry  Christmas  to  you  all.  .  .  . 

On  the  Poonah,  December  15,  1882. 
Dear  William,  —  I  write  my  Sunday  letter  this 
week  on  Friday,  because  to-night  we  are  to  arrive  at 
Aden,  and  there  can  mail  our  epistles.  There  will  not 
be  another  chance  until  we  come  to  Bombay.  All 
this  week  we  have  been  running  down  the  Red  Sea. 
The  weather  has  been  sultry  and  oppressive ;  not  par- 
ticularly hot  by  the  thermometer,  but  such  weather  as 
makes  one  want  to  get  in  a  draft  and  do  nothing.  In 
the  great  cabin,  the  punkas  are  hung  up,  long  cloth 
fans,  which    are  fastened  to  a   rod  that  runs  along 


ON  THE  POONAH.  231 

the  ceiling  over  the  dining-table ;  every  meal-time 
they  are  kept  swinging  by  a  long  cord,  which  runs 
through  the  skylight,  and  is  attached  at  the  other  end 
to  a  small  Mohammedan  on  deck,  who  pulls,  and  pulls, 
and  pulls.  We  could  hardly  live  without  it.  This 
morning  we  were  passing  Mocha,  where  the  coffee 
comes  from,  and  this  afternoon  we  shall  go  through 
Bab-el-Mandel.  When  we  are  once  out  into  the  Indian 
Ocean,  the  special  sultriness  of  the  Eed  Sea  will  be 
over,  and  we  shall  have  a  week   of  charming  sailing. 

The  ship  is  very  comfortable,  but  she  is  old  and 
slow.  She  is  four  days  behind  her  time,  and  we  shall 
not  be  at  Bombay  before  Saturday,  the  23d,  more  than 
three  weeks  from  the  time  we  left  Venice.  But  it  has 
been  very  pleasant.  There  is  a  miscellaneous  and 
interesting  company  on  board.  Here  is  the  general 
who  led  the  cavalry  charge  at  Tel  El  Kebir,  and  is 
coming  back  from  England  after  being  decorated  by 
the  Queen.  Here  is  Lord  Charles  Beresford,  who  ran 
his  boat  up  under  the  guns  at  Alexandria  at  the  time 
of  the  bombardment,  and  did  wonders  of  bravery. 
Here  is  a  young  Cambridge  parson,  going  out  to  a 
missionary  brotherhood  at  Delhi.  Here  are  merchants 
of  Calcutta  and  Madras,  whom  one  pumps  continually 
for  information  about  India,  —  Englishmen,  all  of 
them.  At  Bombay  we  shall  break  up,  and  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  stay  there  about  a  week,  and  then  travel 
by  Delhi,  Jeypore,  Agra,  Lucknow,  AUahabad,  and 
Benares  to  Calcutta,  taking  about  a  month,  bringing 
us  to  Calcutta  about  the  1st  of  February.  A  week 
there,  a  week's  trip  to  the  mountains,  and  a  two  weeks' 
journey  to  Madras  and  its  neighborhood,  will  bring 
us  to  Ceylon  about  the  1st  of  March ;  after  a  week 
there  we  sail  again,  direct  for  Aden  and  Suez.     So 


232        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

there  is  our  winter.     And  you  can  tell  about  where 
we  are  at  any  time.  .  .  . 

There  is  a  long  gap  in  letters.  The  last  was  yours, 
which  reached  me  just  as  I  went  on  board  at  Venice. 
The  next  will  not  come  until  the  steamer  after  ours 
reaches  Bombay,  but  I  am  sure  you  are  all  well  and 
happy,  and  getting  ready  for  Christmas  in  the  old 
cheerful  fashion.  I  shall  think  of  you  all  that  day,  as 
I  sit  sweltering  in  church  at  Bombay. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Bombay,  Sunday,  December  24, 1882. 

Dear  William,  —  In  India  at  last !  And  you  do 
not  know  how  queer  and  beautiful  it  is.  I  will  teU 
you  about  it.  On  Friday  night,  at  eleven  o'clock,  the 
slow  old  Poonah  dropped  her  anchor  in  the  harbor 
opposite  the  Apollo  Bandar,  which  is  the  landing- 
place  of  Bombay.  That  night  we  slept  on  board,  but 
by  six  the  next  morning  we  were  in  a  boat  and  being 
rowed  to  shore,  where  we  had  a  joUy  good  breakfast 
at  Watson's  Hotel.  While  we  were  eating  it,  two 
gentlemen  sent  in  their  cards.  One  was  Mr.  George 
A.  Kittredge,  who  is  the  head  of  the  Tramway  Sys- 
tem here.  The  other  gentleman  was  Mr.  Charles 
Lowell,  who  is  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lowell,  who  used 
to  be  at  St.  Mark's  School.  These  two  gentlemen 
insisted  on  taking  charge  of  us  during  our  stay  in 
Bombay.  Lowell  is  in  the  banking  business  here. 
We  were  immediately  carried  to  his  bungalow,  and 
here  I  write  to  you. 

Fancy  an  enormous  house,  rambling  into  a  series  of 
immense  rooms,  all  on  one  floor,  piazzas  twenty  feet 
deep,  immense  chambers  (in  the  middle  of  which 
stand  the  beds),  doors  and  windows  wide  open,  the 


BOMBAY.  233 

grounds  filled  with  palms,  bananas,  and  all  sorts  of 
tropical  trees,  the  song  of  birds,  the  chirp  of  insects 
everywhere,  and  a  dazzling  sun  blazing  down  on  the 
Indian  Ocean  in  front.  A  dozen  or  more  dusky  Hin- 
doo servants,  barefooted,  dressed  in  white,  with  bright 
sashes  around  their  waists  and  bright  turbans  on  their 
heads,  are  moving  about  everywhere,  as  still  as  cats, 
and  with  no  end  of  devotion  to  their  little  duties.  One 
of  them  seems  to  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  look  after 
me ;  he  has  worked  over  my  limited  wardrobe  till  he 
knows  every  shirt  and  collar  better  than  I  do  myself. 
He  is  now  brushing  my  hat  for  the  twelfth  time  this 
morning.  The  life  is  luxurious.  Quantities  of  de- 
lightful fruit,  cool  lounging-places,  luxurious  chairs,  a 
sumptuous  breakfast  (or  "  tiffin,"  as  we  call  it  here), 
and  dinner  table,  and  no  end  of  kind  attention.  I  am 
writing  in  my  room  on  the  day  before  Christmas  as  if 
it  were  a  rather  hot  August  morning  at  home. 

Yesterday,  we  drove  about  the  town  and  began  our 
sight  of  Indian  wonders  :  Hindoo  temples,  with  their 
squatting  ugly  idols ;  Mahommedan  mosques  ;  bazaars 
thronged  with  every  Eastern  race ;  splendid  English 
buildings  where  the  country  is  ruled ;  a  noble  univer- 
sity; Parsee  merchants  in  their  shops;  great  tanks 
with  the  devotees  bathing  in  them ;  officers'  bungalows, 
with  the  handsome  English  fellows  lounging  about ; 
wedding  processions,  with  the  bride  of  six  years  old 
riding  on  the  richly  decorated  horse  behind  the  bride- 
groom of  ten,  surrounded  by  their  friends,  and  with  a 
tumult  of  horrible  music ;  markets  overrunning  with 
strange  and  delicious  fruits;  wretched-looking  saints 
chattering  gibberish  and  begging  alms,  —  there  is  no 
end  to  the  interest  and  curiosity  of  it  all !  And  this 
is  dead  winter  in  the  tropics.     I  have  out  all  my  thin- 


234        A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

nest  clothes,  and  go  about  with  an  umbrella  to  keep 
off  the  sun.  This  morning,  we  started  at  half  past  six 
for  a  walk  through  the  sacred  part  of  the  native  town, 
and  now  at  ten  it  is  too  hot  to  walk  any  more  till  sun- 
down. But  there  are  carriages  enough,  and  by  and 
by  we  go  to  church.  I  was  invited  to  preach  at  the 
cathedral,  but  declined. 

We  shall  be  in  and  about  Bombay  for  about  a 
week.  You  must  not  think  that  we  shall  suffer  from 
the  heat.  This  is  the  hottest  place  that  we  shall  visit. 
As  soon  as  we  leave  here  we  shall  be  in  the  hills,  and 
by  and  by  shall  see  the  thermometer  at  zero.  How  I 
shall  think  of  you  to-morrow !  It  is  holidays  here,  and 
our  friends  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  look  after  us. 
Banks  close  for  four  days !  Good-by,  my  love  to  you 
all  always. 

BoMBAT,  Tuesday,  December  26. 
Do  you  care  to  know  how  we  spent  Christmas  ?  I 
will  tell  you.  We  arose  in  the  cool  of  the  morning  at 
six  o'clock.  After  we  had  a  cup  of  tea,  some  fruit  and 
bread  and  butter,  the  open  carriage  was  at  the  door, 
and  we  put  on  our  pith  helmets  to  keep  off  the  sun, 
and  drove  away.  First  we  went  to  the  Jain  hospital 
for  animals.  The  Jains  are  a  curious  sect  of  Hin- 
doos, and  one  of  their  ideas  is  the  sacredness  of  ani- 
mal life.  So  they  have  this  great  hospital,  where  they 
gather  all  the  sick  and  wounded  animals  they  can  find, 
and  cure  them  if  they  can,  or  keep  them  till  they  die. 
The  broken-legged  cows,  sick  pigeons,  mangy  dogs, 
and  melancholy  monkeys  are  very  curious.  We  stayed 
there  a  while,  and  then  drove  to  the  Parsee  burial- 
place.  The  Parsees  are  Persian  sun-worshipers,  who 
have  been  settled  here  for  centuries,  and  are  among 


BOMBAY,  235 

the  most  intelligent  and  enterprising  citizens.  Their 
pleasant  way  of  disposing  of  their  dead  is  to  leave  a 
body  on  a  high  tower,  where  vultures  devoted  to  that 
business  come,  and  in  about  an  hour  consume  all  its 
flesh,  leaving  the  bones,  which,  after  four  weeks  of 
drying  in  the  sun,  are  tumbled  into  a  common  pit, 
where  they  all  crumble  together  into  dust.  You  see 
the  towers  with  the  vultures  waiting  on  top  for  the 
next  arrival,  but  no  one  is  allowed  to  enter. 

Then  we  came  home  and  had  our  breakfast,  after 
which  we  drove  into  the  town,  whence  I  sent  a  telegram 
of  "  Merry  Christmas  "  to  you  at  eleven  o'clock.  We 
went  to  the  service  at  the  Cathedral,  which  was  very 
good.  .  .  .  Then  I  drove  out  to  the  Government  House, 
where  the  Governor,  Sir  James  Fergusson,  had  invited 
me  to  lunch.  Very  pleasant  people  were  there,  and 
the  whole  thing  was  interesting.  The  drive  out  and  in, 
about  four  miles  each  way,  was  through  the  strangest 
population,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  queerest  sights. 
After  my  return  (I  went  there  alone)  we  wandered 
about  the  native  bazaars  and  saw  their  curious  trades. 
At  eight  o'clock,  Mr.  Kittredge  gave  us  a  sumptuous 
dinner  at  the  BycuUa  Club,  where  with  turkey,  plum 
pudding,  and  mince-pies,  we  made  the  best  which  we 
knew  how  of  that  end  of  Christmas  Day.  After  that, 
about  ten  o'clock,  we  wandered  out  into  a  native  fair, 
where  we  saw  their  odd  performances  until  late  into 
the  night,  when  we  drove  home  along  the  cool  sea- 
shore, and  went  to  bed  tired  but  happy,  after  the  fun- 
niest Christmas  Day  we  ever  passed. 

We  go  off  now  for  a  short  trip  to  Karli  and  Poonah 
to  see  some  curious  old  Buddhist  temples.  When  we 
get  back  from  there,  we  start  for  a  long  journey  to 
Ahmadabad,  Jeypore,  Delhi,  Lahore,  Agra,  Lucknow, 


236         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Cawnpore,  Allahabad,  Benares,  and  Calcutta.     This 
will  take  three  weeks  or  a  month. 

I  hope  you  had  a  happy  Christmas.  And  now  a 
happy  New  Year  to  you !  Hurrah  for  1883  !  I  hope 
you  will  have  a  splendid  watch-meeting  and  think 
of  me.  .  .  . 

Bombay,  January  2,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  A  happy  New  Year  to  you! 
May  1883  be  the  happiest  of  any  yet !  I  see  no  reason 
why  it  should  not  be.  We  shall  not  frisk  about  quite 
as  much  as  we  did  thirty  years  ago,  when  we  were  boys. 
For  all  that,  there  are  soberer  joys  even  for  such  old 
chaps  as  you  and  I,  and  if  the  birds  fly  somewhat  more 
sluggishly  than  of  old,  why  perhaps  it  will  be  all  the 
easier  to  get  the  salt  on  their  tails.  So  a  happy  New 
Year  to  you  !  The  new  year  broke  on  me  as  I  was 
driving  in  a  tonga  from  Deogaon  to  Nandgaon.  A 
tonga  is  a  queer  sort  of  dogcart,  drawn  by  two  sharp 
little  ponies  with  a  yoke  over  their  necks,  as  if  they 
were  oxen  ;  —  you  see  we  have  been  spending  a  good 
part  of  the  last  week  in  going  up  to  the  hills  to  see 
the  wonderful  Buddhist  and  Braminical  caves  and 
temples.  Sunday  we  spent  in  a  bungalow  on  the  top 
of  a  hot  hill,  out  of  which  two  thousand  years  ago 
these  wonderful  people  hewed  these  marvelous  affairs. 

Think  of  a  structure  bigger  than  Trinity  Church, 
with  spires,  columns,  and  domes  a  hundred  feet  high, 
which  is  not  a  structure  at  all,  but  is  carved  out  of 
solid  rock  and  hewn  into  chambers,  corridors,  court- 
yards, and  shrines ;  covered,  in  almost  every  inch  of 
its  surface  inside  and  out,  with  sculptures,  some  very 
big  and  stately,  some  as  fine  as  jewels,  and  all  full  of 
the  most  interesting  religious  and  historical  meaning. 


BOMBAY.  237 

Think  of  that,  old  fellow  !  That  is  the  most  splen- 
did of  the  caves,  but  there  are  thirty-five  of  them, 
all  more  or  less  wonderful,  and  some  almost  as  fine 
as  this.  We  spent  Sunday  there,  and  Sunday  night 
about  ten  o'clock  (for  you  do  everything  you  can 
by  night  to  avoid  the  heat)  we  took  our  tongas 
and  drove  six  hours  down  from  EUora,  where  the 
caves  are,  to  the  railway.  On  the  way,  just  as  we 
were  stopping  to  change  ponies,  and  some  half -naked 
Hindoos  were  howling  to  each  other  over  their  ar- 
rangement, and  the  Southern  Cross  was  blazing  in  the 
sky,  and  the  moon  struggling  up,  1883  came  tripping  in. 
I  thought  of  you  at  home,  and  wondered  whether  you 
were  having  a  watch-meeting  and  what  you  thought  of 
the  New  Year ;  then  I  remembered  it  was  only  three 
o'clock  in  Boston,  and  that  you  were  just  going  to 
afternoon  church.  So  I  tumbled  back  into  the  tonga 
again  and  we  jolted  on. 

You  see  I  am  getting  somewhat  at  the  country.  It 
is  interesting  far  beyond  anything  I  expected.  Our 
friends,  Kittredge  and  Lowell,  have  been  more  kind 
and  devoted  than  you  can  imagine.  No  one  in  a  week 
could  have  seen  more,  or  seen  it  better,  than  we.  This 
afternoon  we  leave  Bombay  and  launch  out  for  our- 
selves. We  have  a  capital  fellow  for  a  traveling  ser- 
vant, a  dusky  gentleman  with  a  turban  and  a  petti- 
coat, a  low-caste  Hindoo  named  Huri.  When  you  get 
this,  about  the  1st  of  February,  we  shall  have  passed 
through  northern  India  and  shall  be  in  Calcutta.  In 
a  day  or  two  we  shall  get  out  of  excessive  heat,  and 
not  be  troubled  with  it  again  until  we  leave  Calcutta 
for  southern  India.  I  am  splendidly  well.  My  young 
traveling  companion  is  very  pleasant.  I  love  you  all 
very  much,  and  hope  you  will  remember 

Phillips. 


238         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

Bankapub,  Tuesday,  January  3,  1883. 

Dear  Lizzie,^  —  Since  I  wrote  you,  we  have  come 
over  from  Benares,  and  to-day  have  been  making  a 
delightful  excursion  to  Buddh-gaya,  where,  as  Sir 
Edwin  Arnold  tells  us  so  prettily,  Gautama  sat  six 
years  imder  a  bo-tree,  and  thought  and  thought,  until 
at  last  the  DukharSatya  was  opened  to  him,  and  Bud- 
dhism began.  In  these  days,  when  a  large  part  of 
Boston  prefers  to  consider  itself  Buddhist  rather  than 
Christian,  I  consider  this  pilgrimage  to  be  the  duty 
of  a  minister  who  preaches  to  Bostonians,  and  so  this 
morning  before  sunrise  we  started  for  Gaya  and  the 
red  Barabar  Hills. 

We  had  slept  in  the  railway  station,  which  is  not 
an  uncommon  proceeding  in  the  out  of  the  way  parts 
of  India,  where  there  is  no  pretense  of  a  hotel,  and 
where  you  do  not  know  anybody  to  whose  bungalow 
you  can  drive  up,  as  you  can  to  that  of  almost  any 
man  to  whom  you  ever  bowed  in  the  street.  They  are 
a  most  hospitable  folk,  only  when  you  go  to  stay  with 
them  you  are  expected  to  bring  your  own  bedding  and 
your  own  servant,  which  saves  them  lots  of  trouble. 
Think  of  my  appearing  at  your  door  some  afternoon 
with  a  mattress  and  Katie.  We  had  to  drive  ten 
miles  in  a  rattling  gharry,  and  as  we  went  the  sun 
rose  just  as  it  did  on  Buddha,  in  the  same  landscape 
in  the  fifth  book  of  the  "  Light  of  Asia,"  which  (as 
you  see)  I  have  been  reading  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest. We  had  to  walk  the  last  two  miles,  because 
the  ponies,  who  must  have  been  Mohammedans,  would 
not  go  any  farther.  It  was  a  glorious  morning,  and 
by  and  by  we  suddenly  turned  into  an  indescriba- 
ble ravine.  One  tumbled  mass  of  shrines  and  mon- 
uments, hundreds  on  hundreds  of  them,  set  up  for  the 
^  A  sister  in  law. 


BANKAPUR.  239 

last  two  thousand  years  by  pilgrims.  In  the  midst, 
two  hundred  feet  high,  a  queer  fantastic  temple 
(which  has  been  rebuilt  again  and  again)  which  has 
in  it  the  original  Buddha  figure  of  Asoka's  time ;  a  su- 
perb great  altar  statue,  calm  as  eternity,  and  on  the 
outside  covered  with  gold-leaf,  the  seat  on  which  the 
Master  sat  those  six  long  years.  The  bo-tree  has  de- 
parted long  ago,  and  the  temples  were  not  there  when 
he  was  squatting  and  meditating,  but  the  landscape  was 
the  same,  and  though  this  is  one  of  the  places  where 
thousands  of  pilgrims  come  from  both  the  Buddhist 
and  the  Brahmin  worlds,  the  monuments  which  they 
set  up  are  not  as  interesting  as  the  red  hills  on  one 
side,  and  the  open  plain  on  the  other,  which  Sakya 
must  have  seen  when  he  forgot  for  a  moment  to  gaze 
at  the  soles  of  his  own  feet  and  looked  upon  the 
outer  world. 

It  is  a  delightful  country,  this  India,  and  now  the 
climate  is  delightful.  The  Indian  winter  is  like  the 
best  of  our  Indian  summer,  and  such  mornings  and 
midnights  you  never  saw.  We  had  two  weeks  in 
Delhi,  because  my  companion,  Evert  Wendell,  must 
needs  pick  up  the  small-pox.  It  is  rather  good  to 
know  one  town  of  a  great  country  so  well  as  I  know 
that,  and  it  is  on  the  whole,  I  suppose,  the  most  inter- 
esting town  in  India.  I  think  I  know  every  one  of 
its  superb  old  tombs  by  heart.  Wendell  could  not 
have  chosen  a  better  place,  if  he  was  bound  to  do 
such  a  ridiculous  thing  at  all. 

I  wished  you  a  happy  New  Year  when  the  old  year 
left  us  in  the  midst  of  a  night  drive  among  the  hills. 
I  hope  you  felt  my  wish  around  the  globe,  or  through 
it,  which  ever  way  wishes  go.  May  everything  go 
beautifully  with  you.     May  you  get  all  you  want  and 


240         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

nothing  wliicli  you  do  not  want.  It  will  be  bad  for 
you,  but  it  will  be  pleasant.  May  the  new  church  be 
better  even  than  you  expect.  May  you  get  any  num- 
ber of  dry  concerts  and  delightful  books.  May  I  come 
and  see  you  flourishing  gloriously  through  it  all  next 
September.  I  am  not  sure  just  what  you  want,  but, 
whatever  it  is,  may  you  get  it  abundantly.  Give  my 
best  love  to  Arthur,  and  write  me  all  about  what  you 
are  doing.  Affectionately,  P. 

Jetpore,  January  7,  1883. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  I  wish  you  had  been  here  with 
me  yesterday.  We  would  have  had  a  beautiful  time. 
You  would  have  had  to  get  up  at  five  o'clock,  for  at 
six  the  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  we  had  already 
had  our  breakfast.  But  in  this  country  you  do  every- 
thing you  can  very  early,  so  as  to  escape  the  hot  sun. 
It  is  very  hot  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  but  quite  cold 
now  at  night  and  in  the  mornings  and  evenings.  Well, 
as  we  drove  into  the  town  (for  the  bungalow  where  we 
are  staying  is  just  outside),  the  sun  rose  and  the  streets 
were  full  of  light. 

The  town  is  all  painted  pink,  which  makes  it  the 
queerest-looking  place  you  ever  saw,  and  on  the  outsides 
of  the  pink  houses  there  are  pictures  drawn,  some  of 
them  very  solemn  and  some  very  funny,  which  makes  it 
very  pleasant  to  drive  up  the  street.  We  drove  through 
the  street,  which  was  crowded  with  camels  and  elephants 
and  donkeys,  and  women  wrapped  up  like  bundles, 
and  men  chattering  like  monkeys,  and  monkeys  them- 
selves, and  naked  little  children  rolling  in  the  dust, 
and  playing  queer  Jeypore  games.  All  the  little  girls, 
when  they  get  to  be  about  your  age,  hang  jewels  in 
their  noses,  and  the  women  all  have  their  noses  look- 


JEYPORE.  241 

ing  beautiful  in  this  way.  I  have  got  a  nose  jewel  for 
you,  which  I  shall  put  in  when  I  get  home,  and  also  a 
little  button  for  the  side  of  Susie's  nose,  such  as  the 
smaller  children  wear.  Think  how  the  girls  at  school 
will  admire  you. 

Well,  we  drove  out  the  other  side  of  the  queer  pink 
town,  and  went  on  toward  the  old  town,  which  they 
deserted  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  they  built  this. 
The  priest  told  the  rajah,  or  king,  that  they  ought  not 
to  live  more  than  a  thousand  years  in  one  place,  and 
so,  as  the  old  town  was  about  a  thousand  years  old, 
the  king  left  it;  and  there  it  stands  about  five  miles 
off,  with  only  a  few  beggars  and  a  lot  of  monkeys  for 
inhabitants  of  its  splendid  palaces  and  temples.  As 
we  drove  along  toward  it,  the  fields  were  full  of  pea^ 
cocks  and  all  sorts  of  bright-winged  birds,  and  out  of 
the  ponds  and  streams  the  crocodiles  stuck  up  their 
lazy  heads  and  looked  at  us. 

The  hills  around  are  full  of  tigers  and  hyenas,  but 
they  do  not  come  down  to  the  town,  though  I  saw  a 
cage  of  them  there  which  had  been  captured  only  about 
a  month  and  were  very  fierce.  Poor  things !  When 
we  came  to  the  entrance  of  the  old  town,  there  was  a 
splendid  great  elephant  waiting  for  us,  which  the  rajah 
had  sent.  He  sent  the  carriage,  too.  The  elephant 
had  his  head  and  trunk  beautifully  painted,  and 
looked  almost  as  big  as  Jumbo.  He  knelt  down,  and 
we  climbed  up  by  a  ladder  and  sat  upon  his  back,  and 
then  he  toiled  up  the  hill.  I  am  afraid  he  thought 
Americans  must  be  very  heavy,  and  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  could  have  carried  you.  Behind  us,  as  we 
went  up  the  hill,  came  a  man  leading  a  little  black 
goat,  and  when  I  asked  what  it  was  for,  they  said  it 
was  for  sacrifice.     It  seems  a  horrid  old  goddess  has 


242         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

a  temple  on  the  hill,  and  years  ago  they  used  to  sac- 
rifice men  to  her,  to  make  her  happy  and  kind.  But 
a  merciful  rajah  stopped  that,  and  made  them  sacri- 
fice goats  instead,  and  now  they  give  the  horrid  old 
goddess  a  goat  every  morning,  and  she  likes  it  just 
as  well. 

When  we  got  into  the  old  town,  it  was  a  perfect 
wilderness  of  beautiful  things,  —  lakes,  temples,  pal- 
aces, porticos,  all  sorts  of  things  in  marble  and  fine 
stones,  with  sacred  long-tailed  monkeys  running  over 
all.  But  I  must  tell  you  all  about  the  goddess,  and 
the  way  they  cut  off  the  poor  goat's  little  black  head, 
and  all  the  rest  that  I  saw,  when  I  get  home.  Don't 
you  wish  you  had  gone  with  me  ? 

Give  my  love  to  your  father  and  mother  and  Agnes 
and  Susie.  I  am  dying  to  know  about  your  Christ- 
mas and  the  presents.  Do  not  forget  your  affection- 
ate uncle  Phillips. 

Cambridge  Mission,  Delhi,  January  10,  1883. 

Dear  Johnny,  —  A  happy  New  Year  to  you  and 

H and  both  the  babies.     I  received  a  beautiful 

letter  from  you  in  Bombay,  which  deserves  a  better 
answer  than  I  am  afraid  it  will  get  from  me  before 
dinner  is  ready.  It  was  full  of  the  spirit  of  home 
work,  and  of  all  those  pleasant  things  to  which  I  shall 
be  glad  enough  to  get  back  by  and  by,  pleasant  as  it 
is  meanwhile  to  be  wandering  in  these  queer  places. 

Do  you  see  where  I  am  writing  ?  On  the  voyage 
from  Aden  to  Bombay  I  met  a  young  Church  of  Eng- 
land missionary,  with  whom  I  had  a  good  deal  of  talk, 
and  who  asked  me,  when  I  came  to  Delhi,  to  put  up 
with  him.     So  here  we  are.     Three  young  fellows,  all 


DELHI.  243 

graduates  of  Cambridge,  scholars  and  gentlemen,  live 
here  together,  and  give  themselves  to  missionary  work. 
They  have  some  first-rate  schools,  and  are  just  start- 
ing a  high-class  college.  They  preach  in  the  bazaars, 
and  have  their  mission  stations  out  in  the  country, 
where  they  constantly  go.  I  have  grown  to  respect 
them  thoroughly.  Serious,  devoted,  seK-sacrificing 
fellows  they  are,  rather  high  churchmen,  but  thought- 
ful and  scholarly,  and  with  all  the  best  broad  church 
books  upon  their  shelves.  They  are  jolly,  pleasant 
companions  as  possible,  and  yesterday  I  saw  a  cricket 
match  between  their  school  and  the  Government  school 
here,  in  which  one  of  these  parsons  played  a  first-rate 
bat.  Under  their  guidance  I  have  seen  very  thor- 
oughly this  wonderful  old  city,  the  great  seat  of  the 
Mogul  Empire,  excessively  rich  in  the  best  Moham- 
medan architecture. 

How  I  wish  you  would  ask  me  something  about  the 
Aryans,  Davidians,  about  Brahmins,  or  Buddhists,  or 
Parsees,  or  Mussulmans,  or  Jains.  I  could  tell  you 
all  about  them,  but  perhaps  you  do  not  care  so  much 
as  one  gets  to  care  here,  where  the  snarly  old  history 
becomes  a  little  bit  untangled,  and  you  get  immensely 
interested  in  the  past  of  this  enormous  people.  One 
goes  about  picking  up  all  sorts  of  bits  and  piecing 
them  together.  To-day  it  is  a  Cambridge  missionary. 
Yesterday  it  was  a  traveling  Calcutta  Brahmin.  Last 
week  it  was  a  Parsee  merchant,  with  whom  I  got  a 
scrap  of  talk,  and  all  the  time  there  are  wonderful 
sights,  —  Buddhist  caves,  Jain  temples,  woods  full  of 
monkeys  and  peacocks,  rides  on  elephants,  visits  to 
the  English  governors,  and,  first  of  all,  three  or  four 
charming  days  at  the  Bombay  bungalow  of  Charles 
Lowell. 


244         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

I  wish  you  were  here,  and  we  could  talk  it  all  over, 
and  to-morrow  night  start  together  for  Amritsir  and 
Lahore.  But  you  are  not,  and  I  am  afraid  you  do 
not  feel  very  much  interest  in  the  Punjaub  and  the 
Sikhs  just  at  present.  You  will  whenever  you  come 
here.  Meanwhile  you  must  be  getting  your  sermon 
ready  for  the  second  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  I  am 
sure  that  it  will  be  a  good  one  and  wish  that  I  could 
hear  it.  And  by  the  time  you  get  this,  Lent  will  be 
close  upon  you,  and  all  those  hard  questions  about 
Confirmation  and  Lent  service  will  be  crowding  you. 
.  .  .  God  bless  you,  Johnny.     Love  to  all. 

Delhi,  January  14,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  write  you  a  rather  unexpected 
letter  to-day,  for  the  last  week  has  been  different  from 

what  I  looked  for.     Last  Sunday  I  wrote  to  G 

from  Jeypore.  On  Sunday  night  we  left  that  place  and 
came  to  Delhi,  reaching  here  on  Monday  at  noon.  We 
intended  to  stay  till  Thursday,  and  then  go  to  Lahore. 
But  this  is  what  happened :  Wendell  had  not  been  feel- 
ing very  well,  and  when  we  arrived,  it  seemed  best  that 
we  should  see  a  doctor.  The  doctor  at  once  told  him 
that  he  had  the  Indian  fever,  and  must  go  to  bed.  In 
two  days  the  fever  was  broken,  then  it  came  out  that 
behind  the  fever  he  had  the  small-pox.  Fortunately, 
he  is  in  good  hands.  On  the  Poonah  was  a  young  mis- 
sionary, an  English  clergyman,  belonging  to  an  estab- 
lishment here  known  as  the  Cambridge  Mission.  He 
kindly  insisted  that  when  we  came  to  Delhi  we  should 
stay  with  him,  and  so  when  WendeU  was  taken  down 
it  was  at  his  house.  Three  of  them  (bachelors)  keep 
house  together,  and  the  kindness  of  them  all,  under 
these  very  awkward  circumstances,  has  been  most  won- 


DELHI.  245 

derfuL  I  was  in  their  house  three  days,  but  when  I 
found  how  things  were  looking,  I  insisted  on  going 
to  a  hotel  close  by,  for  I  found  one  of  the  ministers 
was  giving  me  his  room,  and  going  out  every  night  to 
sleep.  So  I  am  at  the  United  Service  Hotel,  Wendell 
lies  at  the  Mission  House,  and  I  am  constantly  with 
him.  .  .  . 

Delhi  is  an  immensely  interesting  place,  and  it  is 
not  a  bad  thing  to  see  it  thoroughly.  It  is  the  old 
centre  of  Mohammedan  power  in  India.  Here  the 
Great  Mogul  ruled  for  years  and  years,  and  the  great 
Mosque  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  Mussulman  world. 
Here,  too,  was  the  centre  of  the  great  mutiny  in  1857, 
and  the  town  is  full  of  interesting  points  connected 
with  that  history.  And  then  the  present  life,  both 
Hindoo  and  Mohammedan,  is  vastly  interesting.  The 
streets  are  endless  pictures.  This  morning  the  Jumna 
was  full  of  bathers  in  the  sacred  stream.  The  bazaars 
are  crowded  with  the  natives  of  all  parts  of  India, 
The  processions  of  marriages  and  burials  meet  you 
everywhere.  The  temples  with  their  hideous  gods  are 
all  along  the  streets,  and  the  fakirs  go  clinking  their 
begging-bowls  everywhere. 

At  present  there  is  particular  excitement  because 
the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Punjaub  is  here  with 
his  whole  suite.  They  entered  the  city  yesterday 
morning,  with  a  train  of  elephants  and  camels,  and  all 
the  citizens  in  their  best  clothes  turned  out  to  see  them. 
Now  they  are  encamped  on  a  broad  field,  just  below 
the  Mission,  and  they  make  a  most  picturesque  array. 
For  days  whole  hosts  of  wretched-looking  folk  have 
been  sweeping  the  streets,  dusting  the  temples,  and 
cleaning  up  everything  in  anticipation  of  the  coming 
of  the  Governor  Sahib. 


246        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Later,  Sunday  Afternoon. 
I  preached  this  morning  in  the  English  Church, 
and  had  the  usual  English  congregation.  I  am  get- 
ting so  used  to  English  people  in  these  days  that  a  real 
American  would  seem  a  strange  sort  of  creature.  The 
English  are  faithful  to  their  duties  here,  and  their  In- 
dian Civil  Service  ought  to  be  the  pattern  of  the  world. 
I  wish  that  we  had  anything  like  it  in  America.  The 
trouble  about  the  whole  thing  is,  that  the  Englishman 
does  not  really  like  the  Indian  and  does  not  aim  for 
any  real  liking  from  him ;  also  the  Englishman  suffers 
so  in  this  terrible  Indian  climate  that  he  cannot  live 
here  permanently,  and  each  officer  is  anxious  to  get 
through  his  service,  and  get  his  pension  and  be  off  to 
England.  Such  brave  and  devoted  work  as  our  mis- 
sionary hosts  are  doing  must  tell,  and  the  English 
rulers  are  gradually  getting  the  Indians  fit  for  more 
and  more  self-government.  .  .  . 

Delhi,  January  21,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  Here  I  am  at  Delhi  for  another 
Sunday.  .  .  .  The  mission  work  is  most  nobly,  sen- 
sibly and  faithfuUy  done  here.  .  .  .  Yesterday  after- 
noon, in  the  most  desolate  and  degraded  part  of  all 
the  town,  as  I  stood  with  a  little  crowd  under  a  tree, 
with  the  hubbub  of  heathen  life  around  us,  with  all 
sorts  of  faces,  stupid  and  bright,  hostile,  eager,  and 
scornful,  I  heard  a  native  catechist  preach  the  gospel 
in  Urdu,  of  which  I  could  not  understand  a  word, 
and  thought  there  could  not  be  a  better  missionary 
picture.  A  group  of  Sikh  soldiers  came  up,  splendid- 
looking  fellows,  with  fine  faces,  enormous  turbans,  and 
curled  beards,  who  entered  into  lively  discussion  with 
the  preacher,  and  for  a  time    the  debate  ran  very 


DELHI.  247 

high.  I  could  not  make  out  which  had  the  best  of  it, 
but  the  catechist  seemed  to  understand  himself  very 
well. 

The  principal  point  of  the  Sikhs  seemed  to  be  that 
what  God  made  every  man,  he  meant  that  man  to  con- 
tinue, so  there  could  be  no  good  reason  for  changing 
one's  religion.  But  when  the  preacher  asked  them 
how  the  Sikh  religion  (which  is  only  about  two  hun- 
dred years  old)  began,  he  rather  had  them. 

Before  Wendell's  illness  thoroughly  declared  its 
character,  I  went  off  for  a  three  days'  trip  to  Lahore 
and  Amritsir,  which  was  exceedingly  interesting.  They 
are  in  the  Sikh  country,  which  is  a  region  quite  by  it- 
self, with  the  finest  set  of  men  in  India  and  a  religion 
of  its  own.  At  Amritsir  is  their  great  place  of  wor- 
ship, the  Golden  Temple,  a  superb  structure,  with  the 
lower  half  of  most  beautiful  mosaic  and  the  upper 
half  of  golden  plates,  standing  in  the  middle  of  an 
enormous  artificial  lake,  called  the  Lake  of  Immor- 
tality. There  is  a  beautiful  white  marble  bridge  con- 
necting the  island  with  the  shore.  I  saw  their  pic- 
turesque worship  one  morning,  just  after  sunrise. 
This  was  a  very  fine  trip.  .  .  . 

The  Lieutenant-Governor  has  been  in  camp  here 
for  two  weeks.  Sir  Charles  Atchison,  to  whom  I  had 
an  introduction  from  Sir  Richard  Temple  through  Dr. 
Eliot.  Friday  morning,  a  stunning  menial  in  red  and 
yellow  appeared  on  a  camel  at  my  door,  with  a  note 
saying  that  he  (the  Lieutenant-Governor,  not  the 
jnenial)  and  Lady  Atchison  requested  the  pleasure 
of  my  company  at  dinner.  The  doctor  said  it  was 
quite  safe  to  go,  and  so  I  went.  It  was  great  fun.  We 
had  a  swell  dinner  in  a  gorgeous  tent,  with  about 
thirty  persons,  and  no  end  of  picturesque  servants  to 


248        A    YEAR  IN   EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

wait  on  us.  The  Lieutenant-Governor  was  very  pleas- 
ant, and  when  I  left  promised  me  some  more  letters  to 
people  in  Calcutta.  I  took  his  daughter  in  to  dinner, 
and  had  a  nice  talk  with  her.  She  is  a  sensible  young 
Scotch  lassie.  Tell  Dr.  Eliot,  if  you  see  him,  that 
both  here  and  in  Bombay  I  owe  very  much  to  his  kind 
thoughtfulness. 

I  have  been  preaching  again  to-day,  so  that  for 
three  Sundays  I  have  been  on  duty.  Of  course  these 
are  purely  European  congregations.  A  large  part  of 
the  congregation  is  soldiers,  of  whom  there  is  a  con- 
siderable force  stationed  here.  I  wonder  who  preaches 
at  Trinity?  No  letters  have  reached  me  for  some 
time,  but  in  a  week  I  shall  find  some  at  Benares. 
Then  I  shall  learn  about  your  winter,  and  get  the  bear- 
ings of  you  almost  up  to  Christmas  time.  When 
you  get  this  I  shall  be  about  in  Madras,  perhaps  even 
beyond,  in  Ceylon,  with  the  Indian  journey  finished. 

It  is  the  most  splendid  weather  possible  now, 
like  our  best  May  or  early  June  weather.  In  the 
mornings  it  is  rather  cold,  and  the  natives  go  about 
with  most  of  their  bedclothes  wrapped  about  their 
heads,  though  their  legs  are  bare,  and  do  not  seem  to 
mind  the  cold.  By  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  they  are  sit- 
ting in  the  sun,  with  almost  everything  off  of  them, 
and  burning  themselves  a  shade  or  two  more  brown. 
Their  picturesquesness  is  endlessly  interesting.  But 
I  do  wonder  what  is  going  on  at  home.  I  know  you 
are  all  well  and  that  you  wish  I  were  with  you.  .  .  . 

Benares,  January  28,  1883. 

My  dear  Mary,  — ...  This  is  the  sacredest  place 
in  India.  There  are  five  thousand  Hindoo  temples  in 
Benares.  .  .  .    You  stumble  at  every  step  on  a  temple 


BENARES,  249 

with  its  hideous  idol,  and  if  you  hear  a  gentleman 
muttering  behind  you  in  the  street,  he  is  not  abus- 
ing you,  but  only  saying  prayers  to  Vishnu  or  Siva, 
who  has  a  little  shrine  somewhere  in  the  back  yard 
of  the  next  house.  There  is  one  sweet  temple  to 
their  Monkey  God,  where  they  keep  five  hundred 
monkeys.  I  went  to  this  temple  yesterday  morning, 
and  the  little  wretches  were  running  over  everything, 
and  would  hardly  let  you  go,  wanting  you  to  feed  them. 
They  are  so  sacred  that  if  you  hurt  one  of  them, 
you  would  have  an  awful  time.  It  reminded  me  of 
nothing  so  much  as  your  drawing-room  after  dinner. 

Then  I  went  down  to  the  Ganges,  where  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  people  were  bathing  in  the  sacred 
river.  Pilgrims  from  all  over  India  had  come  to  wash 
their  sins  away,  and  were  scrubbing  themselves,  as 
thick  as  they  could  stand,  for  two  miles  along  the  bank 
of  the  stream.  It  is  a  beautiful  religion,  at  least  in 
this,  that  it  keeps  its  disciples  always  washing  them- 
selves. .  .  . 

By  and  by,  we  came  to  a  place  where,  in  a  little 
hollow  by  the  river's  side,  a  pile  of  wood  was  burn- 
ing ;  two  men  were  waving  a  big  piece  of  cloth  to  fan 
the  flame,  and  gradually  as  it  burned,  you  caught 
sight  through  it  of  a  strange  bundle  lying  in  the  midst 
of  the  wood  and  slowly  catching  fire.  Then  you  knew 
that  it  was  the  funeral  pile  of  some  dead  Hindoo,  who 
had  died  happy  in  knowing  that  he  would  be  burned 
beside  the  sacred  river  and  that  his  ashes  would  be 
mingled  with  its  waters. 

Then  came  another  curious  and  pathetic  sight. 
Close  by  the  side  of  this  burning  pile  was  another  all 
prepared,  but  not  yet  lighted.  Soon  I  saw  a  man 
leading  a  little  naked  boy  some  four  years  old  into  the 


250         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

water.  He  washed  the  little  chap  all  over,  then  stood 
him  up  beside  the  pile  of  wood  ;  a  priest  up  above  on 
a  high  altar  said  some  prayers  over  him,  and  the  man 
gave  the  little  boy  a  blazing  bunch  of  straw  and  showed 
him  how  to  stick  it  into  the  midst  of  the  wood  until 
the  whole  caught  fire.  It  was  a  widower  showing  his 
small  son  how  to  set  his  mother  on  fire.  The  little 
fellow  seemed  scared  and  cried,  and  when  they  let  him 
go  ran  up  to  some  other  children,  —  probably  cous- 
ins,—  who  put  his  clothes  on  for  him,  and  then  he 
squatted  on  his  heels  and  quietly  watched  the  flames. 

While  this  was  going  on  they  had  brought  down  the 
body  of  a  child,  perhaps  seven  or  eight  years  old,  and 
for  it  they  built  another  pile  of  wood  close  to  the  water. 
Then  they  took  the  body  into  the  stream  and  bathed 
it  for  a  moment,  then  brought  it  out  and  laid  it  on  the 
wood.  The  father  of  the  child  went  into  the  water, 
and  washed  himseK  all  over.  After  he  came  out  the 
priest  at  the  altar  chanted  a  prayer  for  him.  Then  he 
went  up  to  an  old  woman  who  sold  straw,  and  bought 
a  bundle,  haggling  some  time  over  the  price.  This  he 
lighted  at  the  burning  pile  of  the  little  boy'.s  mother, 
and  with  it  set  his  own  child's  pile  in  flames.  They 
had  covered  the  little  body  with  a  bright  red  cloth, 
and  it  was  the  prettiest  funeral  pile  of  all.  By  this 
time  another  body,  a  wasted  and  worn  old  man,  had 
come,  and  they  were  already  bathing  him  in  the  Gan- 
ges, while  some  men  were  gathering  up  the  ashes  of 
somebody  who  was  burned  earlier  in  the  day  and 
throwing  them  into  the  river,  where  they  float  to  cer- 
tain bliss.  So  it  goes  all  the  time,  while  a  great  crowd 
is  gathered  around,  some  laughing,  some  praying, 
some  trafficking,  some  begging.  While  we  looked  on, 
an  interesting-looking  fakir  came  up  with  a  live  snake 


BENARES.  251 

pleasantly  curled  around  his  neck,  and  begged  an 
alms,  while  the  boys  behind  kept  pulling  the  tail  of 
his  hideous  necklace  to  make  him  mad-  Just  down 
the  slope  beside  the  water,  the  mother  was  being 
burned  by  the  little  boy,  and  the  child  by  her  father. 

This  is  not  a  cheerful  letter,  but  on  less  serious 
occasions  the  Hindoos  are  a  most  amusing  people.  .  .  . 
They  never  sit,  but  squat  all  over  the  place.  When 
you  meet  them  they  make  believe  take  up  some  dust 
from  the  ground  and  put  it  on  their  heads.  I  wish 
you  could  see  my  servant  Huri.  He  looks  like  a 
most  sober,  pious  female  of  about  forty-five.  He 
wears  petticoats  and  bloomers.  W\ere  he  sleeps  and 
what  he  eats,  I  have  not  the  least  idea.  He  gets  ^8  a 
month  and  finds  himself,  and  is  the  most  devoted  and 
useful  creature  you  ever  saw,  but  as  queer  an  old 
woman  as  ever  lived.  But  good-by.  I  shall  be  glad 
enough  to  see  you  all  again.  .  .  . 

The  Hindoos  are  the  most  pathetic  and  amusing 
people.  .  .  .  This  morning,  after  I  had  written  this 
long  letter,  we  went  down  again  to  the  Ganges  and 
watched  the  bathers  and  the  burners  for  a  long  time. 
On  the  way  we  almost  destroyed  large  numbers  of 
the  infant  population,  who  crawl  about  the  streets  and 
run  under  the  houses'  feet  and  are  just  the  color  of 
the  earth  of  which  they  are  made,  so  that  it  is  very 
hard  to  tell  them  from  the  inanimate  clay.  Almost 
none  of  them  wear  any  clothes  until  they  are  six 
or  seven  years  old ;  then  their  clothes  soon  get  to  be 
the  same  color  as  their  skins  and  it  does  not  help  you 
much. 

We  passed  a  pleasant  temple  of  the  Goddess  of 
Small-Pox,  and  looked  in  a  moment  just  out  of  associ- 
ation.    Her  name  is  Sitla,  and  her  temple  is  a  horrid- 


252         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

looking  place.  On  the  way  through  the  city  there  are 
all  sorts  of  amusing  sights.  Here  is  a  fellow  squatted 
down  in  the  dirt,  blowing  away  on  a  squeaking  flute, 
and  as  he  blows  there  are  a  lot  of  snakes,  cobras,  and 
all  sorts  of  dreadful-looking  things  swinging  back  and 
forth  around  him,  and  sticking  their  heads  out  of  his 
baskets.  Suddenly  the  musician  starts  up  and  begins 
a  fantastic  dance,  and  in  a  few  minutes  makes  a  dive 
at  a  chap  in  the  crowd,  and  by  sleight  of  hand  seems 
to  take  a  long  snake  (which  he  ha's  concealed  some- 
where about  him)  out  of  the  other  fellow's  turban. 
Then  the  crowd  howl  and  jeer,  and  we  throw  the  dirty 
musician  a  quarter  of  a  cent. 

All  this  it  is  pleasantest  to  see  from  the  carriage ; 
just  as  we  are  turning  away,  there  is  a  cheerful  noise 
of  a  band  coming  down  the  narrow  street,  and  there 
appear  a  dozen  men  and  boys  playing  on  queer  drums, 
cymbals,  and  trumpets.  After  them  a  crowd  of  wo- 
men singing  a  wild  and  rather  jolly  air,  then  on  horse- 
back a  small  boy  of  twelve  all  dressed  up  in  gilt 
paper  and  white  cloth,  and  on  another  horse  a  little 
girl  about  the  size  of  Tood,  who  is  his  bride.  She  is 
dressed  like  a  most  gorgeous  doll,  and  has  to  be  held 
on  the  horse  by  a  man  who  walks  behind.  They  have 
all  been  down  to  the  Ganges  to  worship,  and  now  are 
going  home  to  the  wedding  feast,  after  which  the 
bride  will  be  taken  to  the  boy's  mother's  house  to  be 
kept  for  him,  and  a  hard  time  the  little  wretch  will 
have.  The  wedding  procession  comes  to  grief  every 
few  minutes  in  the  crowded  street ;  sometimes  a  big 
swell  on  an  elephant  walks  into  the  midst  of  the  band, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  you  lose  sight  of  the  minstrels 
altogether,  and  only  hear  fragments  of  the  music  com- 
ing out  of  the  neighboring  houses,  where  they  have 


BENARES.  253 

taken  refuge.  Sometimes  there  come  a  group  of  peo- 
ple, wailing,  crying,  and  singing  a  doleful  hymn,  as 
they  carry  a  dead  body  to  the  Ganges,  and  for  a  while 
the  funeral  and  marriage  music  get  mixed ;  but  they 
always  come  unsnarled,  and  the  wedding  picks  itself 
up  and  goes  its  way.  Then  you  stop  a  moment  to  see 
a  juggler  make  a  mango-tree  grow  in  three  minutes 
from  a  seed  to  a  tall  bush.  Then  you  drop  into  the 
bazaars  and  see  their  pretty  silks ;  then  you  stop  and 
listen  to  a  Gooroo  preaching  in  a  little  nook  between 
two  houses  ;  and  so  you  wander  on,  until  you  see  the 
Ganges  flashing  in  the  sun  and  thousands  of  black 
and  brown  backs  popping  in  and  out,  as  the  men  and 
women  take  their  baths. 

When  they  come  out,  they  sit  with  their  legs  folded 
under  them  for  a  long  time,  look  at  nothing,  and  med- 
itate ;  then  they  go  to  a  gentleman  who  sits  under  a 
big  umbrella  with  a  lot  of  paint-boxes  about  him,  and 
he  puts  a  daub  on  their  foreheads,  whose  color  and  pat- 
tern tell  how  long  they  have  bathed  and  prayed,  and 
how  holy  they  are  after  it  all. 

I  have  been  looking  at  Huri,  who  is  squatted  on  the 
ground  in  the  sun,  just  outside  my  door,  as  I  am  writ- 
ing. He  wears  a  gold  and  purple  turban.  The  poor 
fellow  was  upset  in  a  rickety  cab  last  week,  after  he 
had  left  me  at  the  station,  and  says  his  bones  are  bent, 
but  he  has  been  carefully  examined,  and  we  can  find 
no  harm.  He  always  sleeps  just  outside  my  door  at 
night.  Last  night  I  heard  the  jackals  when  I  went 
to  bed,  and  was  quite  surprised  to  find  the  whole  of 
Huri  in  my  room  when  I  woke  up  this  morning.  I 
yv^ish  I  could  bring  him  home.  .  .  . 


254        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Calcutta,  February  3,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  Lots  of  letters  to-day,  the  best 
of  them  your  Christmas  letter,  telling  how  you  re- 
ceived my  Bombay  telegram,  how  you  went  to  church 
and  heard  Bishop  Clark,  how  you  had  lots  of  presents, 
and  went  to  Salem  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  all  de- 
lightful, and  reading  it  as  we  drove  along  to-day  in 
Dharamtolla  Street  (which  means  "the  Way  of 
Righteousness,"  and  a  funny,  shabby  old  Hindoo  Way 
of  Righteousness  it  is),  it  seemed  as  if  I  saw  you  all 
at  your  home  life.  The  palm-trees  turned  to  elms, 
and  the  naked  Indians  to  Boston  men  and  women,  with 
Boston  great-coats  buttoned  up  tc  their  respectable 
Boston  chins.  It  was  all  delightful !  Do  thank  for 
me  the  whole  Salem  Round  Robin. 

Since  I  wrote  that  tremendous  letter  to  Mary  last 
Sunday,  another  week  of  India  has  passed.  I  have 
been  down  to  Gaya,  and  seen  where  Buddha  sat  and 
contemplated  for  six  years,  and  a  marvelous  strange 
place  it  is,  with  ten  thousand  Buddhas  carved  on  every 
side.  Then  I  came  on  here,  and  have  been  seeing 
interesting  things  and  people  for  three  days.  Calcutta 
is  not  half  as  nice  as  Bombay,  but  there  are  people 
here  whom  I  wanted  very  much  to  see.  "  Stately  Bom- 
bay "  and  "  Fair  Calcutta "  the  Anglo-Indians  are 
fond  of  saying, 

I  have  just  written  an  enormous  letter  to  Arthur 
about  Chunder  Sen,  to  whom  I  made  a  long  visit  the 
other  day.  This  afternoon  I  went  to  one  of  the 
schools  supported  by  the  Zenana  Mission  (of  which 
you  have  sometimes  heard  from  Trinity  reading-desk), 
gave  the  prizes  to  a  lot  of  little  Hindoos,  and  made  an 
address  which  was  translated  into  Bengalee  for  my 
audience. 


DARJEELING.  255 

...  I  dined  last  night  with  the  Whitneys,  three 
Boston  men  who  are  out  here  in  business. 

Tell  Gertie  she  has  not  sent  me  yet  her  Christmas 
report.  At  least  I  have  not  received  it.  What  a  suc- 
cession of  splendid  preaching  you  are  having !  Oh, 
how  I  wish  you  were  here  to-night.    God  bless  you  all. 

Darjeeling,  India,  February  7, 1883. 

Dear  Miss  Morrill,  —  Instead  of  writing  you  a 
letter  which  could  be  read  at  our  Ash  Wednesday 
meeting,  I  am  writing  to  you  on  Ash  Wednesday  a 
letter  which  will  hardly  reach  you  before  Easter.  I 
explained  to  you  before  that  I  have  been  unable  to  see 
anything  of  the  work  of  the  Zenana  Missionary  in 
time  to  let  you  hear  from  me  before  the  meeting.  It 
is  only  now,  after  my  visits  to  the  places  where  our 
missionaries  are  at  work,  that  I  feel  as  if  I  had  really 
something  to  say  about  their  labors.  From  the  time 
I  entered  India  I  heard  much  of  the  Zenana  work.  In 
Delhi,  where  I  spent  some  time,  English  ladies  are  at 
work  in  this  visitation  and  teaching  of  native  women, 
and  all  persons  who  are  interested  in  the  religious  and 
social  condition  of  the  people  of  India,  whether  clergy- 
men or  laymen,  value  their  influence  very  highly.  Of 
course,  from  the  nature  of  the  case  it  is  not  a  work 
which  can  make  much  display  of  visible  results,  nor 
can  a  visitor  like  myself  get  any  sight  even  of  its  pro- 
cesses. But  he  can  talk  with  those  who  are  engaged  in 
it,  hear  their  descriptions,  and  learn  from  those  who 
see  it  constantly  what  are  its  effects.  Also,  besides  the 
visitation  of  Zenanas,  the  same  ladies  are  engaged  in 
teaching  school,  which  one  can  freely  see,  and  of 
which  he  can  form  some  judgment  for  himself. 

The  ladies  of  the  American  Union  Mission  whom  I 


256        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

have  met  are  Miss  Gardner,  at  Cawnpore,  and  Miss 
Marston,  Miss  Cook,  and  Mrs.  Page,  in  Calcutta.  I 
was  sorry  that  Miss  Ward  was  absent  from  Cawnpore, 
and  Miss  Lathrop  from  Allahabad  at  the  times  of 
my  visit.  They  had  both  gone  to  Calcutta  with  ref- 
erence to  medical  treatment  for  Miss  Lathrop,  and 
before  I  reached  Calcutta  they  had  returned  to  their 
respective  posts.  At  Cawnpore  the  Mission  House  is 
a  bright,  pleasant  bungalow,  where  the  two  American 
ladies  live,  together  with  a  number  of  native  teachers 
whom  they  have  trained,  and  who  go  out  every  day 
to  teach  schools,  which  they  have  gathered  either  in 
the  city  or  in  some  of  the  neighboring  villages.  There 
are  fourteen  such  schools,  I  think,  in  or  about  Cawn- 
pore. One  of  them  is  taught  in  the  Mission  House 
itself,  and  that  I  saw.  The  children  were  bright  and 
intelligent,  and  (translated)  answers  showed  that  they 
knew  what  they  were  about. 

I  saw  also  what  interested  me  very  much,  the  school 
which  is  supported  by  the  children  of  your  class  and 
Miss  Lowell's  and  Miss  Torrey's.  I  wish  they  could 
see  it.  It  is  described  as  the  most  difficult  of  all  the 
schools,  situated  in  a  region  of  most  benighted  Mo- 
hammedanism, where  the  parents  can  hardly  be  in- 
duced to  let  the  children  come.  Indeed,  there  were 
some  fears  lest  the  visit  of  a  "  Padre  Sahib,"  or  Mr. 
Minister,  like  me,  might  make  trouble,  and  possibly 
break  up  the  school.  I  hope  that  no  disastrous  results 
will  follow  from  my  well-meant  and  innocent  appear- 
ance at  the  school-door.  In  the  very  heart  of  the 
crowded  bazaars  you  turn  from  one  dirty  lane  into 
another  dirtier  and  narrower  still,  and  then  into  the 
dirtiest  and  narrowest  of  all,  which  ends  short  at  a 
native  house  of  very  poor  sort,  but  making  some  small 


DARJEELING,  257 

attempts  at  tidiness.  The  door  admits  at  once  to  tlie 
only  room,  with  an  earth  floor  and  a  few  benches, 
where  you  find  a  native  woman  who  answers  to  the 
name  of  Dorcas,  and  around  her  about  a  dozen  little, 
rough,  sturdy,  native  girls,  into  whose  dull  heads  she 
is  trying  to  put  the  elements  of  Hindostanee  learning. 
It  is  all  homely  enough,  even  wretchedly  shabby  and 
dreary,  as  the  girls  who  support  the  school  would 
think  if  they  could  see  it,  but  if  they  saw  the  homes 
in  which  their  strange  little  protegees  live,  and  their 
parents,  and  knew  the  lives  which  are  before  them  if 
they  go  untaught,  and  could  see  the  condition  of  other 
schools  (which  began  just  as  this  is  beginning),  full 
of  brightness,  and  happiness,  and  neatness,  and  in- 
telligence, and  religion,  they  would  bid  Dorcas  go  on 
with  her  work,  and  feel  it  a  privilege  to  watch  over  the 
little  school  and  nurse  it  to  full  life. 

I  was  rather  glad,  on  the  whole,  to  find  that  our 
children  had  the  hardest  and  most  discouraging  field 
in  Cawnpore  to  work  upon.  No  one  can  talk  with 
Miss  Gardner  and  not  be  very  much  impressed  with 
her  good  judgment  and  happy  devotion  to  her  work. 

In  Calcutta  I  have  been  several  times  at  the  Mis- 
sion House  and  seen  Miss  Marston,  Miss  Cook,  and 
their  young  native  assistants,  who  live  with  them  and 
make  a  most  happy  family.  There,  I  could  see  no- 
thing of  the  Zenana  work,  but  they  told  me  much  about 
it,  and  from  others,  as  well  as  from  them,  I  heard 
such  testimony  as  gives  me  the  strongest  assurance  of 
its  value.  The  only  wonder  is  that  the  Baboos,  or 
native  gentlemen,  so  freely  admit  these  ladies  to  their 
houses.  In  Bengal  especially  there  is  a  strong  desire 
for  education,  which  even  the  secluded  women  feel, 
and  either  by  their  persuasion  or  by  the  husbands' 


258         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

own  desire,  the  requisite  permission  is  granted.  Of 
course  it  is  in  every  case  clearly  understood  that  the 
visitors  mean  to  give  Christian  teaching.  I  have 
made  special  inquiry  upon  the  point,  and  am  assured 
that  no  such  scandalous  deception  of  the  Baboo,  as  was 
described  to  us  by  the  lady  who  addressed  the  Society 
last  year  in  the  chapel  of  Emmanuel  Church,  has 
ever  been  practiced  or  tolerated  by  our  missionaries. 

A  good  deal  of  talk  with  Miss  Marston  has  im- 
pressed me  with  the  good  sense  and  intelligence  of 
her  methods,  and  I  am  more  confident  than  ever  that 
our  church  does  better  work  nowhere  than  in  the  con- 
tribution which  it  makes  to  the  Zenana  Mission. 

The  schools  which  are  imder  the  care  of  these  Cal- 
cutta ladies  are  very  interesting.  I  have  visited  sev- 
eral of  them,  and  heard  their  recitations  both  in  Eng- 
lish and  Bengalee.  The  former  was  so  good  that  I 
could  have  no  doubt  about  the  latter.  And  the  chil- 
dren's faces  told  the  story,  which  to  any  one  who  has 
watched  for  a  month  or  two  the  ordinary  look  of  Hin- 
doo children's  countenances  was  unmistakable. 

Last  Saturday  afternoon  I  went  to  a  prize  festival 
of  two  of  these  schook,  which  I  wish  that  the  friends 
of  the  Mission  could  have  seen.  A  generous  Baboo 
had  kindly  offered  the  use  of  the  courtyard  of  his 
house,  which  was  prettily  decorated  for  the  occasion. 
He  and  a  number  of  his  friends  came  and  looked  on 
with  the  greatest  interest.  Even  some  of  the  ladies 
of  his  household  were  watching  what  went  on  from 
an  upper  gallery.  Some  hundred  and  fifty  children 
were  there,  with  that  strange,  pensive,  half-sad  look 
in  their  eyes  which  makes  the  faces  of  Hindoo  chiL 
dren  so  pathetic.  Some  of  them,  however,  had  fun 
enough  in  them.     Many  of  them  were  gorgeous  in 


DARJEELING.  259 

bright  colors  and  trinkets.  Most  of  them  had  fine 
rings  in  their  ears,  they  all  had  rings  in  their  noses, 
and  the  finest  of  them  also  had  rings  on  their  toes. 
Their  little  brown  ankles  tinkled  with  their  anklets  as 
they  trotted  up  barefoot  to  get  their  dolls,  and  they 
answered  Bible  questions  as  I  wish  the  children  of 
Trinity  school  would  answer  them.  They  sang  strange^ 
sweet  Bengalee  words  to  tmies  which  all  our  children 
know,  and  after  I  had  given  them  their  prizes  I  made 
a  little  speech,  which  was  translated  to  them,  and  I 
hope  they  understood,  for  I  wanted  them  to  know  how 
much  their  American  friends  cared  for  these  little 
friends  of  theirs. 

I  wish  that  I  had  time  to  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Page's 
Orphan  Asylum.  Most  of  these  orphans  are  found- 
lings, and  one  could  not  look  at  them  without  think- 
ing what  their  lives  mur:t  have  been,  save  for  this 
home ;  if  indeed  without  it,  they  could  have  had  any 
life  at  all ;  many  of  them  must  have  died  in  infancy. 
Now  those  who  have  been  with  Mrs.  Page  for  years 
are  as  cheerful  and  cheery  a  lot  of  little  Christian 
maidens  as  any  school  in  America  can  show.  Some 
of  the  teachers  in  the  schools  of  which  I  have  been 
speaking  were  brought  up  in  this  home.  There  are 
some  seventy  or  eighty  inmates  now. 

But  I  must  not  go  on  forever.  You  will  see  that  my 
whole  visit  to  this  Zenana  work  and  my  acquaintance 
with  the  workers  have  deepened  the  faith  in  it  which 
I  have  always  rather  blindly  felt.  I  know  it  now,  and 
I  know  that  it  is  good.  Those  who  have  given  their 
contributions  year  after  year  may  rest  assured  that 
they  have  really  helped  the  minds  and  souls  of  Hindoo 
women,  shut  up  in  the  dreary  monotony  and  frivol- 
ity of  their  Zenanas,  and  made  possible  for  Hindoo 


260         A    YEAR   m  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

children  happy  and  useful  lives,  of  which  they  had  no 
chance  except  for  such  help.  I  congratulate  you 
and  the  other  ladies,  who  have  had  the  privilege  of 
helping  on  this  work  and  keeping  alive  other  people's 
interest  in  it.  If  anything  that  I  can  ever  do  or  say 
can  give  it  encouragement  or  strength,  I  shall  be 
very  glad. 

Foreign  missions  lose  something  of  their  romance, 
but  they  gain  vastly  in  reality  and  interest  when  one 
sees  them  here  at  work.  I  should  be  very  glad  to 
think  that  in  all  this  long  letter  I  had  succeeded  m 
giving  you  any  idea  of  how  it  all  looks  when  one  sees 
it  with  his  own  eyes.     Believe  me  ever 

Most  sincerely  yours,  Phillips  Brooks. 

Calcutta,  February  11,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  This  week  I  have  seen  the  Hima- 
layas. Last  Monday  we  left  Calcutta  at  three  o'clock 
by  rail ;  at  seven  we  crossed  the  Ganges  on  a  steam- 
boat, just  as  if  it  had  been  the  Susquehanna.  All 
night  we  slept  in  the  train,  and  the  next  day  were 
climbing  up  and  up  on  a  sort  of  steam  tramway, 
which  runs  to  Darjeeling,  a  summer  station  at  the  foot 
of  the  highest  hills,  but  itseK  a  thousand  feet  higher 
than  the  top  of  Mt.  Washington.  There  the  swells  go 
in  the  hot  months,  but  now  it  is  almost  deserted.  We 
reached  there  on  Tuesday  evening  in  the  midst  of  rain, 
found  that  the  great  mountains  had  not  been  seen  for 
eight  days,  and  everybody  laughed  at  our  hope  of  seeing 
them.  We  slept,  and  early  the  next  morning  looked 
out  on  nothing  but  clouds.  But  about  eight  o'clock 
the  curtain  began  to  fall,  and  before  nine  there  was  a 
most  splendid  view  of  the  whole  range.  In  the  midst 
was  the  lordly  Kinchin jinga,  the  second  highest  moun- 


CALCUTTA,  261 

tain  in  the  world,  over  28,000  feet  high.  Think  of 
that !  Certainly,  they  made  the  impression  of  height, 
such  as  no  mountains  ever  gave  me  before. 

By  and  by  we  rode  about  six  miles  to  another  hill 
called  Senchul,  where  the  tip  of  Mt.  Everest,  the  high- 
est mountain  in  the  world,  29,002  feet,  is  visible.  That 
was  interesting,  but  the  real  glory  of  the  day  was 
Kinchin jinga.  We  gazed  at  him  till  the  jealous  clouds 
came  again  in  the  afternoon  and  covered  him ;  then 
we  roamed  over  the  little  town  and  went  to  a  Bud- 
dhist village  a  couple  of  miles  away.  The  people 
here  are  Thibetans  by  origin,  and  they  keep  associa- 
tions with  the  tribes  upon  the  other  side  of  the  great 
hills.  A  company  of  Thibetans,  priests  and  Lamas, 
had  come  over  to  celebrate  the  New  Year,  which  with 
them  begins  on  the  9th  of  February.  They  had  the 
strangest  music  and  dances,  and  queer  outdoor  plays, 
and  we  were  welcomed  as  distinguished  strangers,  and 
set  in  the  place  of  honor,  feasted  with  oranges,  and 
begged  for  backsheesh. 

The  next  morning  there  were  the  giant  hills  again, 
and  we  looked  at  Kinchinjinga  (I  want  you  to  learn 
his  name)  till  eleven  o'clock,  when  we  took  the  train 
again  for  Calcutta,  and  arrived  there  on  Friday  after- 
noon about  five.  It  was  a  splendid  journey,  and  one 
to  be  always  remembered.  On  my  return  to  Calcutta 
I  found  two  invitations  waiting:  one  was  to  dine  at 
the  Government  House  with  the  Viceroy  on  Thursday 
evening.  Of  course,  I  was  too  late  for  that,  and  was 
very  sorry,  for  now  I  shall  not  see  the  great  man  and 
the  viceregal  court  at  all.  The  other  was  to  an  even- 
ing party  on  Friday,  given  by  the  Rajah  Rajendra 
Narayan  del  Bahadur,  "  in  honor  of  the  late  British 
victory  in  Egypt."     Of  course  I  went  to  this,  and  it 


262         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

was  the  biggest  thing  seen  in  India  for  years.  It  is 
said  to  have  cost  the  old  Rajah  a  lac  of  rupees,  or 
$100,000.  At  any  rate,  it  was  very  splendid  and 
very  queer,  —  acres  of  palace  and  palace  grounds 
blazing  with  lights,  a  thousand  guests,  the  natives  in 
the  most  beautiful  costumes  of  silk  and  gold ;  a  Nautch 
dance  going  on  all  the  time  in  one  hall,  a  full  circus, 
—  horses,  acrobats,  clowns,  and  all,  only  after  native 
fashion,  —  in  a  great  covered  courtyard,  supper  per- 
petual, and  the  great  drawing-room  blazing  with  fam- 
ily jewels.  I  stayed  till  one  o'clock,  and  then  came 
home  as  if  from  the  Arabian  Nights,  and  went  to 
bed. 

But  I  cannot  tell  you  all  I  am  doing  or  have  done. 
This  morning,  for  r  change,  I  preached  from  Henry 
Martyn's  old  pulpit  in  the  Mission  Church.  To-mor- 
row morning,  we  sail  on  the  P.  &  O.  steamer  Rohilla 
for  Madras,  a  three  days'  voyage.  Thence  we  travel 
by  Tan j ore,  Trichinopoly,  and  Madura  to  Tuticorin. 
Then  across  by  sea  to  Colombo,  and  after  a  week  in 
Ceylon  sail  in  the  Verona  (P.  &  O.)  on  the  7th  of 
March  (the  day  Daniel  Webster  made  his  speech) 
for  Suez.  From  Suez  by  rail  to  Alexandria,  seeing 
Cairo  on  the  way,  and  the  recent  battlefield  of  Tel  El 
Kebir.  When  you  get  this,  about  the  24th  of  March, 
I  shall  probably  be  in  Alexandria,  perhaps  spend 
Easter  there.  Thence  I  somehow  go  to  Spain,  getting 
there  about  April  1. 

Your  New  Year's  letter  reached  me  yesterday.  A 
thousand  thanks  for  it.  Next  year  we  will  have  such 
a  watch-meeting  as  was  never  known.  Now  the  year 
is  more  than  half  over.  How  fast  it  has  gone,  and 
henceforth  we  draw  nearer  and  nearer  to  each  other. 
When  I  get  to  England,  it  will  almost  seem  at  home. 


MADRAS.  263 

Tell  M.,  and  A.,  and  G.,  and  S.   that  I  love  them 
all.     G.'s  Christmas  report  not  yet  received. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Madras,  February  18,  1883. 

My  dear  William,  —  We  had  a  beautiful  sail 
down  from  Calcutta.  For  four  days  the  Rohilla  slid 
along  over  the  most  beautiful  glassy  sea,  the  sky  was 
lovely  at  sunrise  and  sunset,  the  nights  were  the  most 
gorgeous  moonlight,  and  the  sun  at  noon  was  hotter 
than  Sancho.  There  were  a  good  many  pleasant  peo- 
ple on  board,  two  bishops,  an  archdeacon,  and  the 
usual  queer  lot  of  sailors  who  run  the  steamships  in 
these  Eastern  seas.  We  arrived  at  Madras  very  early 
on  Friday  morning,  and  I  have  been  charmed  with 
the  place  ever  since.  It  was  glorious  last  night.  I 
drove  five  miles  into  the  country  to  dine  at  Mr. 
Sewall's.  He  is  the  archaeological  director  of  the  dis- 
trict, and  knows  all  about  the  Vishnu  temples  and 
the  Buddliist  Topes,  of  which  the  whole  region  is  full. 
The  road  ran  through  long  avenues  of  banyan-trees, 
which  looked  like  ghosts  with  their  long  arms ;  little 
temples  peeped  through  the  trees,  and  picturesque 
groups  Gi  people  were  flitting  about  on  foot,  or  in 
queer  bullock  carts,  and  it  was  all  as  unlike  the  Mill- 
dam  as  possible.  We  had  a  charming  dinner  with 
people  who  knew  all  about  India,  and  drove  home  at 
eleven  o'clock  through  the  February  summer  night. 

I  sent  from  Calcutta  a  box  which  will  reach  you  in 
due  time ;  not  for  a  long  time,  perhaps,  for  I  left  it 
there  to  be  sent  the  first  time  there  was  a  sailing  ves- 
sel going  direct  to  Boston.  There  is  nothing  particu- 
lar in  it.  Only  a  few  travel  books,  which  I  wanted  to 
get  out  of  the  way,  and  a  number  of  small  traps,  which 


264        A    YEAR  IN  EITROPE  AND  INDIA. 

have  accumulated  in  my  trunk.  There  is  nothing 
really  fine  or  artistic  to  buy  in  India.  Art  seems  to 
have  stopped  here  some  two  hundred  years  ago,  so  I 
have  made  no  purchases,  and  these  things  in  the  box 
are  mere  trinkets  and  a  few  pieces  of  cloth  and  some 
photographs.  .  .  . 

There  is  something  which  I  wish  you  would  do  some 
time,  when  it  is  not  much  bother.  When  I  left  I  took 
some  sermons  with  me  in  a  great  hurry.  I  did  not 
make  a  very  good  selection,  and  do  not  like  what  I 
have  brought ;  when  I  get  to  England  I  may  preach 
some  more.  Would  it  be  much  trouble  for  you  to  go 
some  afternoon  into  my  study,  and  look  in  the  back 
of  my  writing-table  and  find  six  or  eight  sermons, 
among  the  later  ones,  which  you  think  would  do,  and 
send  them  to  me  at  Barings',  only  marking  them  not 
to  be  forwarded,  but  kept  for  me  there  ?  You  will 
know  about  the  ones  to  send.  There  is  one  about 
Gamaliel,  which  I  remember.  Do  not  hurry  about 
this,  but  if  you  think  of  it  some  afternoon,  do  it  like 
a  good  fellow,  won't  you,  and  I  wiU  do  as  much  for 
you  when  you  come  to  India. 

Strawberries  are  first-rate  here,  cocoanuts  and  plan- 
tains and  oranges  and  guavas  everywhere.  It  will 
be  hard  to  leave  these  gentle  Hindoos  and  their  de- 
lightful land  when  the  time  comes,  three  weeks  hence. 
The  only  compensation  will  be  that  I  shall  be  coming 
nearer  to  you  all.  Affectionately,  P. 

Tanjobe,  India,  February  23,  1883. 

Dear  aunt  Susan,  —  I  hope  you  are  all  well,  and 
I  wish  that  I  could  drive  up  the  side  yard,  this 
morning,  and  find  you  all  there,  going  on  in  the  good 
old-fashioned  way.     Instead  of  that,  I  am  sitting  here 


TAN  J  ORE.  265 

in  the  midst  of  heathenism,  in  the  big  room  of  an 
Indian  bungalow,  with  a  punkah  swinging  overhead  to 
keep  me  cool,  propelled  by  a  rope  which  a  naked 
heathen  boy  is  pulling  on  the  veranda  outside,  and 
with  the  sun  blazing  down  on  the  palm-trees  and  bam- 
boos as  it  never  blazes,  even  in  August,  in  the  back 
garden.  This  morning,  while  it  was  still  cool,  I  went 
to  the  great  temple,  and  saw  the  worship  of  the  great 
god  Siva.  The  worshipers  were  a  strange-looking 
set,  some  of  them  very  gentle  and  handsome,  others 
wild  and  fierce ;  but  all  groveling  before  the  most 
hideous  idol,  and  hiding  their  faces  in  the  dust,  while 
the  big  priest  clothed  the  image  with  flowers,  washed 
him,  set  his  food  and  drink  before  him,  and  anointed 
him  with  dreadful-smelling  oil. 

It  is  strange  to  be  right  in  the  midst  of  pure,  blank 
heathenism,  after  one  has  been  hearing  and  talking 
about  it  all  his  life.  And  it  is  certainly  as  bad  as  it 
has  been  painted.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  the 
missionaries  here,  and  a  good  many  of  them  are  doing 
very  noble  work,  but  the  hosts  on  hosts  of  heathen 
must  be  a  pretty  discouraging  sight  to  them  some- 
times. However,  I  saw  a  dozen  or  more  funeral  piles 
burning  the  other  day  at  Benares,  and  so  there  are 
that  number  less  of  unconverted  heathen  in  the  land. 

We  have  had  a  splendid  two  months  here,  and  now 
only  two  weeks  remain  before  we  shall  sail  from  "  Cey- 
lon's Isle  "  for  Europe,  where  it  will  seem  as  if  I  were 
almost  in  the  midst  of  you  again.  But  all  the  rest  of 
my  life  I  shall  have  pictures  before  my  mind  of  these 
queer  people  riding  on  elephants  (that  they  prod  with 
a  sharp  iron  stick  behind  the  ear  to  make  them  go), 
squatting  on  their  heels  in  the  sunniest  sunshine  they 
can  find,  and  religiously  bathing  in  big  tanks  and  tug- 


266         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

ging  at  the  heavy  cars  on  which  they  love  to  drag 
their  horrible  gods  about  the  country ;  smiling,  cheat- 
ing, lying  dreadfidly,  and  making  their  country  as 
picturesque  as  anything  can  be  in  all  the  world.  It 
wiU  be  good  to  get  back  again,  for  after  all  one  wants 
to  be  at  work.  William,  Arthur,  and  John  have  writ- 
ten me  from  time  to  time,  —  William  constantly,  — 
and  from  them  I  have  heard  all  the  news.  The  best 
is  that  everything  is  going  on  without  change,  and  that 
I  shall  find  you  all  next  September  just  as  I  left  you 
last  June.  You  will  not  doubt  that  I  think  of  you  a 
great  deal.  Give  my  best  love  to  aunt  S,  and  aunt 
C,  and  write  to  me  when  you  can. 
Ever  most  affectionately, 

Phillips  Brooks. 

Trichinopoly,  February  25,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  am  staying  at  the  house  of 
Mr.  SewaU,  the  chief  collector  of  this  district,  who  has 
taken  us  in  and  given  us  his  hospitality  for  a  couple 
of  days.  We  have  reached  southern  India,  and  the 
hot  weather  is  on  us,  so  that  except  in  early  morn- 
ing and  late  afternoon  there  is  no  possibility  of  moving 
about  and  seeing  things.  What  people  will  do  here 
two  or  three  months  hence  I  can  hardly  imagine. 
The  sun's  heat  is  tremendous,  and  even  with  perpetual 
punkahs  swinging  in  every  room  where  anything  is 
being  done,  eating,  or  writing,  or  reading,  or  talking, 
or  sleeping,  life  is  hardly  tolerable.  Nevertheless,  we 
have  had  a  good  sort  of  week.  Last  Sunday  evening 
we  went  on  board  a  canal-boat  at  Madras,  a  funny 
little  tub  of  a  thing,  and  were  towed  all  night  by 
coolies,  running  along  the  bank  for  about  thirty  miles, 
to  a  place  called   Mahabalihuram,  where    there   are 


TRICHINOPOLY.  267 

some  wonderful  pagodas  or  Hindoo  temples,  and  some 
remarkable  old  sculptures  on  the  rocks  of  enormous 
size. 

It  was  a  gorgeous  moonlight  night,  and  the  sensa- 
tion of  being  pulled  along  through  this  wild  country 
by  these  naked  figures,  striding  and  tugging  on  the 
banks,  was  very  curious.  The  next  day  we  spent  at 
the  pagodas,  which  were  built  nobody  knows  when  or 
by  whom,  and  which  have  the  whole  Hindoo  my- 
thology marvelously  carved  in  their  rocky  walls.  Mon- 
day night  we  took  the  same  way  back,  and  it  was  hard 
to  turn  in  and  leave  the  strange  picture  which  I  saw,  as 
I  sat  in  the  stern  of  the  little  craft. 

We  took  our  own  servants,  beds,  and  provisions 
with  us,  and  stopped  each  evening  and  spread  our 
table  for  dinner  in  the  desert,  by  the  side  of  the  canal. 
After  our  return,  we  spent  one  more  day  in  Madras, 
and  then  started  southward  toward  Ceylon.  We 
stopped  first  at  Chedambaram,  where  there  is  a  stupen- 
doTis  temple,  with  heathenism  in  full  blast,  processions 
of  Vishnu,  Siva,  and  the  other  gods  going  about  with 
drums,  trumpets,  and  cymbals  all  the  time.  Then  to 
Tanjore,  where  there  is  the  most  beautiful  of  the  big 
pagodas,  and  where  we  spent  a  delightful  day.  Thence 
to  this  place,  where  yesterday  we  saw  the  richest 
temple  of  all,  in  which  the  jewels  and  gold  clothing 
of  two  horrid  little  brass  idols  are  worth  ten  lacs 
of  rupees,  11,000,000.  The  collector  had  sent  word 
that  we  were  coming,  and  they  had  the  jewels  all 
spread  out  for  us  to  see,  while  crowds  of  gaping 
natives  stood  outside  the  rope  and  watched  the  pre- 
cious things  as  we  examined  them.  A  dozen  officials 
had  to  show  them,  for  the  gTcat  chest  has  so  many 
locks,  and  each  official  keeps  a  separate  key.     It  can- 


268         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE   AND   INDIA. 

not  be  unlocked  without  the  presence  of  them  all,  a 
sort  of  combination-safety  arrangement  which  I  com- 
mend to  the  Boston  bank  directors. 

I  am  sincerely  blue  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  India 
in  ten  days  more.  I  try  to  fix  every  picture  in  my 
memory,  so  that  I  may  not  lose  it.  But  I  hate  to 
think  that  I  shall  never  see  it  again.  The  people 
cheat,  lie,  worship  false  gods,  and  do  all  sorts  of  hor- 
ridly wicked  things,  but  they  are  evidently  capable  of 
a  better  life.  Their  land  is  full  of  monuments  which 
show  what  they  once  were,  and  there  is  a  courtesy, 
mild  dignity,  and  perpetual  picturesqueness  about 
them  which  is  fascinating. 

This  morning  I  went  to  an  early  service  and  saw 
the  grave  of  Bishop  Heber  in  the  chancel.  I  was  go- 
ing to  preach  for  the  minister  this  evening,  but  he 
could  not  find  a  surplice  of  decent  length,  and  it  had 
to  be  given  up. 

On  Friday  I  shall  be  at  Colombo,  and  then  shall 
get  some  letters  from  you  all  and  learn  what  you  are 
doing.  I  can  imagine,  but  very  often  I  wish  that  I 
could  ]ook  through  the  thick  world  and  see.  At  this  mo- 
ment you  are  sound  asleep,  preparing  for  the  Sunday 
and  the  excitement  of  hearing  some  great  man  at 
Trinity.  I  hope  it  is  n't  very  cold.  Oh,  that  I  could 
give  you  some  of  this  heat !  My  love  to  everybody. 
Always  affectionately,  P. 

Kandy,  March  4,  1883. 

My  dear  Mary,  —  Do  you  know  I  think  this 
place  is  good  enough  and  important  enough  from 
which  to  write  you  a  letter.  In  the  first  place,  it  is 
the  farthest  point  of  my  travels ;  from  this  time  my 
face  is  turned  homeward.     In   the   second    place,  I 


KANDY.  269 

think  it  must  be  the  most  beautiful  place  in  the 
world.  I  do  not  see  how  there  could  be  one  more 
beautiful.  I  wish  you  could  have  driven  with  me  this 
morning  at  sunrise,  through  the  roads  with  hundreds 
of  different  kinds  of  palm-trees,  and  to  the  Buddhist 
temple,  where  they  were  offering  fresh  flowers  to  Bud- 
dha and  banging  away  on  drums  in  his  honor  enough 
to  kill  you ;  then  out  to  the  gardens  where  cinnamon, 
nutmeg,  clove-trees,  tea  and  coffee  plants,  pineapples, 
mangoes,  bamboos,  banyans,  India-rubber  trees,  and 
a  hundred  other  curious  things  are  growing.  Here 
and  there  you  meet  an  elephant  or  a  peacock,  and 
the  pleasant-faced  natives  smile  at  you  out  of  their 
pretty  houses. 

Oh,  this  beautiful  island  of  Ceylon ! 
With  the  cocoanut-trees  on  the  shore ; 
It  is  shaped  like  a  pear  with  the  peel  on, 
And  Kandy  lies  in  at  the  core. 

And  Kandy  is  sweet  (you  ask  Gertie !) 
Even  when  it  is  spelt  with  a  K, 
And  the  people  are  cheerful  and  dirty, 
And  dress  in  a  comical  way. 

Here  comes  a  particular  dandy, 
With  two  ear-rings  and  half  of  a  shirt, 
He  's  considered  the  swell  of  all  Kandy, 
And  the  rest  of  him  's  covered  with  dirt. 

And  here  comes  the  belle  of  the  city, 
With  rings  on  her  delicate  toes, 
And  eyes  that  are  painted  and  pretty, 
And  a  jewel  that  shakes  in  her  nose.  , 

And  the  dear  little  girls  and  their  brothers, 
And  the  babies  so  jolly  and  fat, 
Astride  on  the  hips  of  their  mothers, 
And  as  black  as  a  gentleman's  ha,t. 


270         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

And  the  queer  little  heaps  of  old  women, 
And  the  shaven  Buddhistical  priests, 
And  the  lake  whicli  the  worshipers  swim  in, 
And  the  wagons  with  curious  beasts. 

The  tongue  they  talk  mostly  is  Tamul, 
Which  sounds  you  can  hardly  tell  how, 
It  is  half  like  the  scream  of  a  camel, 
And  half  like  the  grunt  of  a  sow. 

But  it  is  too  hot  to  make  any  more  poetry.  It  is  per- 
fectly ridiculous  how  hot  it  is.  I  would  not  walk  to  that 
Buddhist  temple  opposite  for  anything.  If  I  tried 
to,  you  would  never  see  my  familiar  face  in  Claren- 
don Street  any  more.  I  am  glad,  with  all  the  beauty  of 
Ceylon,  that  there  are  only  two  days  more  of  it.  It  is 
too  near  the  equator.  On  Wednesday  morning  the 
Verona  sails  from  Colombo,  and  will  carry  me  to  Suez, 
and  the  Indian  trip  is  over.  It  has  been  one  unmixed 
pleasure  from  beginning  to  end. 

We  have  a  new  boy.  Huri's  language  gave  out  at 
Calcutta.  He  did  not  know  the  queer  tongues  they 
talk  in  southern  India,  and  he  had  to  be  sent  back  to 
Bombay.  We  parted  with  tears  and  rupees.  Then 
came  another  boy,  who  had  to  be  summarily  dismissed. 
He  was  too  stupid  for  anything.  It  made  the  journey 
far  too  laborious  when  we  had  to  take  care  of  him. 
Now  we  have  a  beautiful  creature  named  Tellegoo, 
or  something  like  that.  He  wears  a  bright  yellow 
and  green  petticoat,  which  makes  him  look  very  gay, 
and  a  tortoise-shell  comb  in  his  hair.  ,  .  .  Our  asso- 
ciation with  him  will  be  brief,  for  we  leave  him  on  the 
wharf  when  we  sail,  Wednesday,  and  there  will  be 
fewer  rupees  and  no  tears. 

I  went  to  church  this  morning,  and  the  minister 
preached  on  the  text,  "  Bake  me  a  little  cake  first," 


STEAMER   VERONA.  271 

and  the  point  was,  that  before  you  bought  any  clothes 
or  food,  you  must  give  something  towards  the  endow- 
ment of  the  English  church  at  Kandy.  It  was  really 
a  pretty  sermon.  .  .  . 

There  are  the  Buddhists  howling  again.  It  must 
be  afternoon  service.  The  priests  go  about  without  a 
bit  of  hair  on  their  heads,  and  wrapped  in  dirty  yellow 
sheets.  .  .  . 

P.  &0.  Steamer  Verona,  March  11, 1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  wrote  last  Sunday  to  M. 
from  beautiful  Kandy.  That  letter,  I  suppose,  is 
somewhere  on  board  this  ship  at  this  moment;  but 
not  to  break  my  good  habit  of  a  weekly  letter,  I  will 
send  you  this,  to  show  how  I  felt  when  we  were  half- 
way from  Colombo  to  Aden,  and  next  Sunday  I  will 
send  still  another  from  wherever  we  are  in  the  Red 
Sea.  You  will  get  them  altogether,  but  you  can  read 
them  in  their  order,  and  so  get  three  consecutive 
weeks  of  my  important  biography  at  one  time. 

It  seems  so  strange  to  be  on  the  sea  again  and  think- 
ing about  the  Indian  journey  as  a  finished  thing.  The 
days  from  Venice  to  Bombay  keep  coming  back,  when 
I  was  full  of  wonder  about  it  all.  Now,  I  know  at 
least  a  great  deal  about  what  I  shall  always  think  one 
of  the  most  delightful  and  interesting  lands  in  all  the 
world.  In  some  respects,  the  last  bit  of  it  was  almost 
the  best.  The  tropics  had  seemed  to  elude  us  before. 
Many  a  time  in  India  it  seemed  as  if  the  landscape 
were  almost  what  one  might  have  seen  at  home,  but 
the  minute  that  we  touched  Ceylon,  everything  was 
different.  One  cannot  conceive  of  the  gorgeousness  of 
nature.  Only  the  night  before  we  left,  we  drove  a 
few  miles  along  the  seashore,  with  such  groves  of  enor- 


272         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

mous  palms  and  cocoanuts  on  one  side,  and  such  color 
of  sunset  on  the  water  on  the  other  side,  as  no  dream 
or  picture  ever  began  to  suggest.  And  the  whole  four 
hours'  ride  from  Colombo  to  Kandy  is  marvelous. 
The  mountains  are  superb,  and  in  the  valleys  there 
are  depths  of  jungle  which  show  what  the  earth  is  at 
only  eight  degrees  from  the  equator.  And  then  in 
Ceylon  for  the  first  time  we  saw  Buddhism,  that  great 
religion  which  sprang  up  in  India,  and  has  completely 
disappeared  in  the  land  of  its  birth,  but  has  spread 
elsewhere,  till  more  than  a  quarter  of  the  human  race 
are  Buddhists.  We  just  caught  sight  of  it  when  we 
were  close  to  the  Himalayas  on  the  borders  of  Thibet, 
but  in  Ceylon  we  saw  the  strange  system  in  its  full- 
ness. 

Last  Monday  afternoon  I  drove  out  to  the  Buddhist 
college  and  saw  the  old  high-priest  teaching  a  class  of 
students,  who  sat  around  him  with  their  shaven  heads 
and  their  yellow  robes,  getting  ready  to  continue  this 
atheistical  religion  for  another  generation.  The  old 
fellow  looked  up  and  asked  us  who  we  were.  I  gave 
him  my  card,  which  he  spelled  out  with  difficulty,  then 
he  asked  me, "  Do  you  know  anything  about  me  ?  " 
and  seemed  disappointed  and  disgusted  when  I  was 
obliged  to  tell  him  that,  much  as  we  were  interested 
in  his  religion,  and  glad  as  we  were  to  see  his  college, 
we  had  never  heard  of  him  before  in  all  our  lives.  He 
evidently  did  not  understand  how  local  his  great  rep- 
utation was.  He  dismissed  his  class  and  untwisted 
his  legs,  and  got  down  and  toddled  away. 

We  have  been  four  days  on  the  Verona.  The  peo- 
ple are  pleasant,  the  captain  is  cordial  and  agreeable, 
and  the  weather  is  cool,  so  the  voyage  is  charming;. 
The  Archdeacon  of  Calcutta  is  on  b  )ai'd,  and  pre:u']i: -1 


STEAMER   VERONA.  273 

this  morning.  He  is  a  very  jolly  sort  of  person.  I 
am  to  preach  next  Sunday.  There  are  some  pri- 
vate theatricals  in  prospect,  so  the  future  looks  lively. 
Next  Sunday  you  shall  hear  how  the  week  has  gone. 

Long  before  you  get  this,  the  great  house  ques- 
tion will  be  settled,  and  you  will  have  decided  where 
your  declining  years  are  to  be  passed,  whether  in  the 

house  in  G Street,  which  I  know  already,  or  in 

some  new  nest  in  M or  B streets.  Which- 
ever it  is,  I  have  the  deepest  interest  in  it,  and  shall 
be  very  anxious  to  hear.  Very  many  of  my  few  re- 
maining hours  will  be  spent  by  the  new  fireside,  and 
years  hence,  I  shall  come  tottering  up  to  the  door  to 
recall  the  old  days  when  we  were  young  and  I  went 
away  to  spend  a  winter  in  India.  I  cannot  help  wish- 
ing that  the  change,  if  there  is  to  be  one,  might  bring 

you  nearer  to  the  corner  of  C and  N streets, 

instead  of  taking  you  farther  away,  as  I  fear  it 
will.  .  .  . 

Spain  is  the  next  thing,  and  I  am  counting  much 
upon  it.  I  have  some  expectation  of  meeting  the 
Brimmers  there,  but  it  is  not  at  all  certain.  At  pres- 
ent I  am  alone.  Wendell  left  me  at  Suez  to  go  to 
Cairo,  and  then  to  Palestine.  He  has  been  a  very 
agreeable  companion,  intelligent,  good-natured,  always 
bright  and  obliging.  I  feel  very  much  attached  to 
him. 

I  had  a  letter  at  Suez  from  Canon  Farrar,  asking 
me  to  preach  for  him  in  the  Abbey  and  also  at  St. 
Margaret's.  I  wrote  him  that  I  would  do  so,  and 
England  begins  to  seem  as  if  it  were  not  very  far 
away.  All  of  May  and  June  I  hope  to  be  there.  The 
Captain  sends  his  love.     Good-by. 


274         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Steamship  Verona, 
Sunday,  March  18,  1883. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  It  seems  to  me  that  our  cor- 
respondence has  not  been  very  lively  lately.  I  don't 
think  I  had  a  letter  from  you  all  the  time  I  was  in 
India.  I  hoped  I  should,  because  I  wanted  to  show 
it  to  the  Rajahs,  and  other  great  people,  and  let  them 
see  what  beautiful  letters  American  children  can  write. 
But  now  I  am  out  of  India,  and  for  the  last  ten  days 
we  have  been  sailing  on  and  on,  over  the  same  course 
where  we  sailed  last  December.  Last  Tuesday  we 
passed  Aden,  and  stopped  there  about  six  hours.  I 
went  on  shore,  and  took  a  lilve  through  the  town  and 
up  into  the  country.  If  you  hu,d  been  with  me  you 
would  have  seen  the  solemn-looking  camels,  stalking 
along  with  solemn-looking  Arabs  on  their  backs,  look- 
ing as  if  they  had  been  riding  on  and  on  that  way 
ever  since  the  days  of  Abraham.  I  think  I  met  Isaac 
and  Jacob  on  two  skinny  camels,  just  outside  the  gates 
of  Aden.  I  asked  them  how  Esau  was,  but  Jacob 
looked  mad  and  would  n't  answer,  and  hurried  the  old 
man  on,  so  that  I  had  no  talk  with  them  ;  but  I  feel 
quite  sure  it  was  they,  for  they  looked  just  like  the 
pictures  in  the  Bible. 

Since  that  we  have  been  sailing  up  the  Red  Sea, 
and  on  Monday  evening  we  shall  be  once  more  at 
Suez,  and  there  I  say  good-by  to  my  companion,  who 
stops  in  Egypt,  and  goes  thence  to  Palestine,  while  I 
hurry  on  to  Malta  and  Gibraltar  in  the  same  steamer. 
She  is  a  nice  little  steamer,  with  a  whole  lot  of  chil- 
dren on  board,  who  fight  all  the  while  and  cry  the  rest 
of  the  time.  Every  now  and  then  one  of  them  almost 
goes  overboard,  and  then  all  the  mothers  set  up  a  great 
howl,  though  I  don't  see  why  they  should  care  very 


STEAMER   VERONA.  275 

much  about  such  children  as  these  are.  I  should 
think  it  would  be  rather  a  relief  to  get  rid  of  them. 
Now,  if  it  were  you,  or  Agnes,  or  Tood,  it  would  be 
different ! 

There  has  just  been  service  on  deck,  and  I  preached, 
and  the  people  all  held  on  to  something  and  listened. 
I  would  a  great  deal  rather  preach  in  Trinity. 

I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  Easter.  Mine  wil) 
be  spent,  I  trust,  in  Malta.  Next  year  I  hope  you  will 
come  and  dine  with  me  on  Easter  Day.  Don't  forget ! 
My  love  to  Tood.     Your  affectionate  uncle, 

Phillips. 

On  the  p.  &  O.  Steamship  Verona, 
March  19,  1883. 

Little  Mistress  Josephine, 

Tell  me,  have  you  ever  seen 

Children  half  as  queer  as  these 

Babies  from  across  the  seas  ? 

See  their  funny  little  fists, 

See  the  rings  upon  their  wrists ; 

One  has  very  little  clothes, 

One  has  jewels  in  her  nose  j 

And  they  all  have  silver  bangles 

On  their  little  heathen  ankles. 

In  their  ears  are  curious  things. 

Round  their  necks  are  beads  and  strings, 

And  they  jingle  as  thej^  walk. 

And  they  talk  outlandish  talk ; 

One,  you  see,  has  hugged  another, 

Playing  she  's  its  little  mother ; 

One  who  sits  all  lone  and  lorn. 

Has  her  head  all  shaved  and  shorn. 

Do  you  want  to  know  their  names  ? 


276         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

One  is  called  Jeefungee  Hames, 
One  Buddhanda  Arrich  Bas, 
One  Teedundee  Hanki  Sas. 

Many  such  as  these  I  saw, 
In  the  streets  of  old  Jeypore ; 
They  never  seemed  to  cry  or  laugh, 
But,  sober  as  the  photograph, 
Squatted  in  the  great  bazaars. 
While  the  Hindoos,  their  mammas, 
Quarreled  long  about  the  price 
Of  their  little  mess  of  rice, 
And  then,  when  the  fight  was  done, 
Every  mother,  one  by  one. 
Up  her  patient  child  would  whip, 
Set  it  straddling  on  her  hip. 
And  trot  off  all  crook'd  and  bent 
To  some  hole,  where,  well  content. 
Hers  and  baby's  days  are  spent. 

Are  n't  you  glad,  then,  little  Queen, 

That  your  name  is  Josephine  ? 

That  you  live  in  Springfield,  or 

Not,  at  least,  in  old  Jeypore  ? 

That  your  Christian  parents  are 

John  and  Hattie,  Pa  and  Ma  ? 

That  you  've  an  entire  nose, 

And  no  rings  upon  your  toes  ? 

In  a  word,  that  Hat  and  you 

Do  not  have  to  be  Hindoo  ? 

But  I  thought  you  'd  like  to  see 

What  these  little  heathen  be. 

And  give  welcome  to  these  three 

From  your  loving  Uncle  P. 


STEAMER   VERONA.  277 

Steamship  Verona,  March  25,  1883. 

Dear  Johnny,  —  I  must  send  you  an  Easter 
greeting  from  this  queer  cabin,  where,  and  on  the 
deck  aLove  it,  we  have  spent  our  Easter  Day.  I  hoped 
that  we  should  be  at  Malta  for  the  great  festival,  but 
we  were  detained  a  long  while  in  the  Suez  Canal,  and 
shall  not  be  at  Malta  till  next  Wednesday.  On  Sat- 
urday, I  hope  to  land  at  Gibraltar. 

.  .  .  How  I  wish  you  were  here  to-night.  We  would 
sit  late  on  deck,  and  you  should  tell  me  all  about 
Springfield ;  and  I  would  tell  you  all  about  India. 
This  long  return  voyage  is  a  splendid  chance  to  think 
it  over,  and  arrange  in  one's  memory  the  recollections 
of  the  wondrous  land.  Besides  the  countless  pictures 
which  one  saw  every  day,  eleven  great  sights  stand  out 
which  you  must  see  when  you  go  to  India.  They  are 
these :  — 

First,  the  rock  temples  of  Karli  and  EUora. 
Think  of  buildings  big  as  Christ  Church,  Springfield, 
not  built,  but  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock,  and  covered 
inside  and  out  with  Hindoo  sculptures  of  the  richest 
sort. 

Second,  the  deserted  city  of  Ambir,  a  city  of  the 
old  Moguls,  with  hardly  a  human  inhabitant,  and 
palaces  and  temples  abandoned  to  the  jackals  and 
the  monkeys. 

Third,  the  Kuttub  at  Delhi,  the  most  beautiful  col- 
umn in  the  world,  covered  with  inscriptions ;  the  most 
splendid  monument  of  the  Mohammedan  power. 

Fourth,  the  golden  temple  at  Amritsir.  Think  of 
a  vast  artificial  lake,  in  whose  centre,  reached  by  a 
lovely  white  marble  bridge,  is  the  holy  place  of  the 
Sikhs,  the  lower  half  of  most  delicate  marble  mosaics, 
and  the  upper  of  sheets  of  beaten  gold. 


278         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Fifth,  the  Taj  at  Agra,  a  dream  of  beauty:  the 
tomb  of  an  old  Mogul  empress,  made  of  the  finest 
marble,  and  inlaid  in  the  most  dainty  way.  The  whole 
as  large  as  the  State  House. 

Sixth,  the  river  shore  of  the  Ganges  at  Benares. 
Mile  after  mile  of  palaces  and  temples,  and  in  front 
of  them  the  bathing-places  of  the  living  and  the 
burning-places  of  the  dead. 

Seventh,  Buddh-Gaya,  where  Buddha  sat  for  si-: 
years  under  the  bo-tree,  till  enlightenment  came  to 
him.     A  valley  full  of  Buddhist  temples  is  there  now. 

Eighth,  the  view  of  Kinehinjinga,  from  Darjeeling, 
the  second  highest  mountain  in  the  world.  Think 
of  a  hill  five  times  as  high  as  Mt.  Washington,  blaz- 
ing with  snow  in  the  sunshine. 

Ninth,  the  seven  pagodas  near  Madras,  where  whole 
stories  of  the  Hindoo  mythology  are  sculptured  on  the 
face  of  perpendicular  rocks;  and  they  are  queer 
enough. 

Tenth,  the  Sivite  temple  at  Tanjore,  one  mass  of 
brilliant  color  and  sculpture,  with  its  great  pyramid, 
two  hundred  feet  high. 

Eleventh,  the  temple  at  Kandy,  in  Ceylon,  where 
they  keep  Buddha's  tooth.  You  see  the  strange  Bud- 
dhist priests  and  their  strange  ways. 

These  are  the  greatest  things  in  India,  and  there  are 
ever  so  many  more  like  them,  only  not  quite  so  great 
or  interesting.  I  am  very  glad  I  went,  and  I  wish 
that  everybody  who  cares  about  interesting  things 
could  go  there,  too.  .  .  . 

Steamship  Verona,  March  25,  1883. 
Dear  William,  —  This  is  not  much  of  a  place  for 
Easter   Day.     We    have   had   the   queerest   sort   of 


STEAMSHIP  VERONA.  279 

week.  Last  Monday  night  we  reached  Suez,  and  put 
about  half  our  ship's  company  on  shore  to  go  to  Alex- 
andria, Brindisi,  and  Venice.  Since  then  we  have 
been  dragging  along  through  the  Suez  Canal.  There 
were  twenty-six  steamships  in  single  file ;  we  were  the 
eleventh.  Every  now  and  then,  No.  1  or  No.  6  would 
get  aground,  and  then  we  all  had  to  wait  till  it  got 
loose,  five  or  six  hours,  as  the  case  might  be.  Every 
night,  the  whole  twenty-six  of  us  pulled  up  and  tied 
fast  to  the  bank,  and  waited  for  morning.  So  we 
crept  along  till  yesterday  (Saturday,  Easter  even), 
when  we  reached  Port  Said,  where  we  stayed  four 
hours,  and  then  launched  out  into  the  broad  Mediter- 
ranean. Now  all  is  clear.  The  broad  sea  is  rolling 
merrily  around  us,  we  have  a  lot  of  sail  set,  and  are 
scudding  on  towards  Malta.  We  shall  get  there  on 
Wednesday ;  I  hope  to  be  put  on  shore  at  Gibraltar 
some  time  on  Saturday,  the  31st,  and  begin  my  Span- 
ish experiences  on  April  Fool's  Day. 

Meanwhile,  here  is  Easter  Day  at  sea.  A  mission- 
ary from  New  York,  on  his  way  home  from  China  with 
a  sick  wife,  has  just  read  the  morning  service.  He  did 
not  attempt  any  sermon,  and  the  singing  was  uncom- 
monly feeble.  Only  the  religious  passengers  came 
down  for  service.  Now  there  will  be  nothing  more  to 
show  that  it  is  Easter  Day,  —  no  children's  service 
this  afternoon,  no  flowers,  no  eggs,  nothing  but  the 
monotonous  plunging  of  the  ship  as  she  goes  on 
towards  Malta. 

After  all,  it  is  rather  good  fun,  this  long  voyage. 
I  have  had  time  to  read  big  books  on  India,  and 
the  people  are  some  of  them  pleasant,  some  of  them 
amusing.  They  are  mostly  returning  Anglo-Indi- 
ans, with    something    the    matter  either    with    their 


280         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

lungs  or  with  their  livers.  They  are  peevish  and  pos- 
itive, not  liking  to  be  contradicted,  and  very  set  in 
their  opinions.  ...  It  is  all  very  nice.  Then  there 
are  a  few  really  bright,  companionable  people,  and  I 
have  a  beautiful  pipe. 

An  Easter  greeting  to  you  all.  .  .  .  Thanks  for  a 
lot  of  good  papers  and  letters,  which  I  received  at 
Suez.     They  were  a  great  resource  in  the  canal. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Gibraltar,  April  1,  1883. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  have 
been  ill.  If  you  had  only  come  with  me  on  the  Ser- 
via,  and  not  stayed  at  home  to  work  so  hard  over  your 
lessons,  I  do  not  believe  you  would  have  been  ill  at 
all.  And  this  morning  the  long  voyage  from  Ceylon 
would  have  been  over.  I  wrote  you  a  beautiful  letter 
two  weeks  ago  to-day  from  the  Verona,  which  I  hope 
you  got.  Ever  since  that,  we  have  been  sailing,  and  sail- 
ing, and  sailing,  till  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  never  go- 
ing to  stop.  We  did  stop  two  or  three  times,  but  we 
always  had  to  go  aboard  and  start  again.  We  stopped 
at  Aden,  and  Suez,  and  Port  Said,  and  last  Wednesday 
at  Malta.  Malta  was  very  nice.  We  stayed  there  six 
hours,  and  wandered  about  the  streets  while  the  Ve- 
rona was  getting  coal.  The  town  is  beautifully  white 
and  clean,  and  the  Verona,  when  we  came  back  to  her 
again,  was  very  black  and  dirty.  But  they  washed 
her  all  off  while  we  were  at  dinner. 

At  Malta  we  saw  the  church  where  all  the  old 
knights  of  Malta  are  buried,  and  the  armor  which 
they  used  to  wear,  and  then  there  is  a  queer  old  church, 
which  the  monks  have  the  care  of,  and  when  a  monk 
dies,  they  do  not  bury  him  underground,  or  burn  him 


GRANADA.  281 

up  with  fire,  which  would  be  better,  but  they  stand 
him  up  in  a  niche,  in  his  monk's  frock,  and  leave  him  ; 
and  there  they  are,  a  whole  row  of  dry  monks,  dread- 
ful-looking things,  with  their  labels  on  them,  to  tell 
who  they  used  to  be  when  they  were  alive. 

Well,  Wednesday  afternoon  we  left  Malta  and 
sailed  on  and  on  in  the  Verona.  There  did  not  much 
happen  on  the  Verona  all  the  way.     The  people  were 

not  very  interesting.     Only,  Miss  G got  engaged 

to  the  fourth  officer,  and  that  interested  us   all  very 

much  indeed,  and   one   morning   Audley  D and 

Lawrence  K got  into  a  great  fight  on  deck,  and 

Audley  D hit  Lawrence  K in  the  eye  and  hurt 

him,  and  then  the  two  mothers,  Mrs.  D and  Mrs. 

K ,  went  at  each  other  and  scolded  terribly.    And 

that  also  interested  us  very  much  indeed. 

This  is  about  all  I  can  think  of  that  happened  on 
board  the  Verona.  I  can't  tell  you  much  about  Spain 
yet,  for  I  have  only  been  in  it  about  an  hour  and  half. 
The  people  talk  Spanish,  which  is  very  awkward,  but 
the  sailing  up  to  Gibraltar  this  morning  was  splendid. 
The  narrow  gate  of  the  Mediterranean,  with  its  two 
great  rocks,  one  in  Europe  and  one  in  Africa,  was  all 
ablaze  with  the  morning  sun,  and  through  it,  westward, 
lay  America  and  Boston.  I  am  going  on  Tuesday  to 
Malaga  and  then  to  Granada.  .  .  Give  my  love  to 
everybody.     Your  affectionate, 

Uncle  Phillips. 

Granada,  under  the  Walls  of  the  Alhambra, 
April  8,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  about 
the  new  house.  I  would  rather  see  it  this  morning 
than  the  Alhambra,  which  is  towering  up  above  my 


282         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

windows !     What   number   in   M Street    is   it  ? 

Are  you  going  to  have  ampelopsis  growing  on  the 
front  wall  ?  Which  is  my  room  ?  .  .  .  Do  write  me 
all  about  it,  and  tell  me  how  it  gets  on  and  how  it  is 
going  to  look. 

I  have  been  a  week  in  Spain.  I  landed  at  Gibraltar 
last  Sunday  morning,  and  immediately  wrote  a  letter 
to  G.  to  signal  my  arrival.  I  stayed  there  till  Tues- 
day, and  had  a  first-rate  time.  It  was  good  to  be  on 
shore  again,  and,  besides,  on  the  Verona  I  had  struck 
up  quite  a  friendship  with  a  certain  Major  Wing,  who 
was  coming  home  from  India  on  sick-leave.  He  is  a 
first-rate  fellow.  He  landed  at  Malta,  but  he  gave  me 
a  letter  to  the  colonel  who  commands  all  the  artillery 
at  Gibraltar,  and  he  was  immensely  civil.  He  took 
me  all  over  the  fortifications,  introduced  me  at  the 
Club,  and  made  me  almost  live  at  his  house,  where 
were  a  very  pleasant  wife  and  children ;  so  I  saw 
Gibraltar  at  its  best  and  have  the  brightest  recollec- 
tions of  it. 

Tuesday  night  I  took  the  boat  for  Malaga.  David 
Whitney  and  his  family  were  on  board,  so  that  I  feel 
myself  really  in  the  Boston  atmosphere  again.  .  .  . 

The  Alhambra  joins  on  remarkably  to  the  remem- 
brances of  India.  Here  is  the  farthest  west,  as  there 
is  the  farthest  east,  of  the  Mohammedan  conquests, 
and  Granada  and  Delhi  have  very  much  in  common 
with  each  other.  Granada  is  the  more  beautiful,  at 
least  in  situation,  for  here  is  the  Sierra  Nevada  (as 
pretty  a  range  of  snowy  mountains  as  was  ever  seen) 
in  view  all  the  time,  and  the  best  parts  of  the  Alham- 
bra beat  anything  in  the  old  city  of  the  Moguls.  Still 
I  like  to  stand  by  India,  and  the  substitution  here  of 
the   English  tourist  (one  of  whom  I  heard  at  lunch 


MADRID.  283 

declare  that  this  is  a  very  much  overrated  place)  for 
the  picturesque  Hindoo  or  Mussulman  makes  a  vast 
change. 

I  received  some  letters  here,  and  among  others  two 
of  yours,  for  which  I  am  as  always  very  grateful.  They 
brought  you  down  to  March  19,  just  past  Professor 
Allen's  Sunday.  There  was  another  letter  from 
Canon  Farrar,  fixing  it  that  I  am  to  preach  at  the  Ab- 
bey on  the  27th  of  May,  and  at  St.  Margaret's  on 
either  the  3d  or  10th  of  June.  If  the  latter,  it  will 
be  Hospital  Sunday,  and  so  I  want  you  to  do  me  one 
more  favor.  Will  you  go  to  my  sermons  and  get  me 
several  Hospital  Sunday  discourses  (they  are  all  in- 
scribed on  top  over  the  text  "  Hospital  Sunday  "  )  and 
send  them  to  me.  .  .  .  This  week  I  expect  to  meet 
the  Brimmers,  next  Sunday  I  shall  probably  be  in 
Seville,  the  Sunday  after  in  Madrid,  and  in  London 
as  soon  as  possible  after  the  1st  of  May.  Good-by, 
love  to  them  all.  P. 

Madrid,  April  15,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  Ever  since  I  received  your  letter 
yesterday,  I  have  been  trying  to  realize  that  it  is  true 
that  aunt  S.  and  aunt  C.  are  really  gone.  It  seems 
almost  impossible  to  picture  the  old  house  as  it  must 
be  to-day.  ...  I  wish  so  much  that  I  had  been  at 
home,  and  I  hope  I  shall  hear  from  you  some  time 
about  the  last  of  those  two  long,  faithful  lives.  .  .  . 

It  seems  as  if  this  great  change  swept  away  from 
the  world  the  last  remnants  of  the  background  of  our 
earliest  life.  Even  after  father  and  mother  went, 
as  long  as  aunt  S.  lived,  there  was  somebody  who  had 
to  do  with  us  when  we  were  babies.  Now  that  gen- 
eration has  aU  passed  away.     How  many  old  scenes 


284         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

it  brings  up.  This  is  Sunday  morning,  right  after 
breakfast,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  could  see  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing of  the  old  times  in  Kowe  Street,  with  the  general 
bustle  of  mother  and  aunt  S.  getting  off  to  Sun- 
day-school, and  father  settling  down  to  read  to  the 
bigger  boys  in  the  front  parlor ;  and  there  are  faint 
memories  of  much  earlier  days  when  the  aunts  must 
have  been  blooming  young  ladies,  though  they  seemed 
to  us  then  almost  as  old  as  they  ever  did  in  later  times. 
I  hope  the  last  years  of  their  lives  have  been  happy, 
in  spite  of  the  suffering.  They  have  been  spared  what 
was  most  to  be  dreaded,  long,  hopeless  illness  and 
helplessness.     But  I  am  so  sorry  to  hear  that  aunt 

S had  to  suffer.  ...  If   there  were   ever   lives 

totally  unselfish,  and  finding  all  their  pleasure  in  mak- 
ing other  people  happy,  these  were  they.     We  know 

aunt  S best,  of  course,  but  dear  little  aunt  C , 

with  her  quiet  ways,  had  something  very  touching 
and  beautiful  about  her.  She  seems  to  have  slipped 
out  of  life  as  unobtrusively  and  with  as  little  trouble 
as  she  lived. 

When  I  left  them,  of  course  I  knew  it  was  very 
likely  that  I  should  not  see  them  again.  But  all  I 
had  heard  since  made  me  feel  as  if  they  would  be  there 
when  I  came  home.  I  had  a  nice  letter  from  aunt 
Susan  in  the  autumn,  which  must  have  been  a  good 
deal  of  an  effort  for  her  to  write,  and  I  wrote  to  her, 
from  India,  a  letter  which  must  have  reached  Andover 
after  it  was  all  over. 

It  cannot  be  long — one  cannot  ask  that  it  should 

be  long  —  before  aunt  S follows  her  sisters.  Give 

her  my  love  and  sympathy.  As  it  may  be  that  she 
wiU  go  before  I  come  home,  the  old  house  be  left 
empty,  and    something   have   to   be    done    about  the 


SALAMANCA.  285 

property,  I  want  to  say  that  I  should  like  to  buy  it, 
and  I  authorize  you  to  buy  it  for  me,  if  the  chance  of- 
fers. Or,  if  you  and  Arthur  and  John  would  not  like 
that,  I  will  join  with  any  or  all  of  you  to  buy  and 
hold  it.  I  do  not  know  whether  you  liked  it  well 
enough  last  sununer  to  think  of  making  it  a  summer 
home,  but  I  should  like  to  hold  it  as  a  place  where, 
for  the  whole  or  part  of  any  summer,  we  could  gather 
and  have  a  delightful,  easy  time,  among  the  most 
sacred  associations  which  remain  for  us  on  earth.  A 
few  very  simple  improvements  would  make  it  a  most 
charming  place,  so  do  not  by  any  chance  let  it  slip, 
and  hold,  by  purchase  or  otherwise,  to  as  much  of  the 
furniture  as  you  can.  One  of  these  days,  when  I  am 
a  little  older  and  feebler,  I  should  like  to  retire  to 
it  and  succeed  Augustine  Amory  at  the  little  church. 
Is  not  our  window  done  there  yet  ? 

I  am  sorry  for  poor  Kttle  G .     I  hope  she  is 

better  long  before  this.  Tell  her  I  would  come  home 
and  see  her  if  I  really  thought  it  would  make  her 
rheumatism  better.  If  it  does  not  get  well  quickly, 
tell  her  to  get  into  the  Servia  and  come  over  here,  and 
we  will  lay  her  down  in  the  Spanish  sun,  and  melt  it 
out  of  her.  It  is  hard  for  the  poor  little  thing  to 
have  to  suffer  so.  Give  her  my  love,  and  tell  her  I 
shall  be  back  in  about  five  months. 

I  am  with  the  Brimmers  and  the  Wisters  of  Phila- 
delphia, a  party  of  seven,  which  is  quite  a  new  travel- 
ing experience  for  me.  I  like  it.  I  shall  be  almost 
in  England  when  you  get  this.     Good-by,  P. 

Salamanca,  April  29,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  And  so  aunt  S too  is  gone, 

and  the  old  house  is  empty !    I. only  received  your  letter 


286         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

last  evening,  and  all  the  night,  as  I  rode  here  in  the 
train,  I  was  thinking  how  strange  it  was.  These 
three  who  began  their  lives  so  near  together,  long  ago, 
and  who  have  kept  so  close  to  one  another  all  the 
while,  now  going  almost  hand  in  hand  into  the  other 
world.  .  .  .  How  pathetic  it  used  to  be  to  see  aunt 
S sitting  there,  full  of  pain,  trying  to  do  some  lit- 
tle bit  of  good  in  her  curious  ways,  with  her  queer 
little  tracts,  and  her  vague  desire  to  exhort  everybody 
to  be  good.  I  always  thought  she  must  have  been  one 
of  the  handsomest  of  the  sisters  when  they  were  young. 
Surely,  no  end  that  we  could  have  dreamed  of  for 
them  could  have  been  more  perfect.  But  how  we 
shall  miss  them ! 

.  .  .  Such  a  dear  old  town  as  this  is !  I  am  here 
alone.  Mr.  Brimmer  stayed  at  Madrid.  I  shall  meet 
them  again  on  Tuesday  or  Wednesday  at  Burgos.  No- 
body here  speaks  a  word  of  anything  but  Spanish,  and  I 
have  the  funniest  time  to  get  along.  This  morning  I 
spent  two  hours  in  the  cathedral,  with  an  old  priest 
with  whom  I  tallied  in  Latin.  One  of  the  towers  of 
the  cathedral  gave  the  suggestion,  I  think,  of  the  tower 
of  Trinity  Church  in  Boston.  You  will  find  a  cut  of 
it  in  Fergusson's  "  Architecture  "  in  my  library.  The 
whole  town  is  a  wilderness  of  architectural  delight. 
Convents,  churches,  cloisters,  colleges,  and  towers 
everywhere.  How  I  wish  you  were  here  this  after- 
noon. A  good  long  letter  from  Arthur  yesterday. 
Very  bright  and  busy.  Well,  ours  is  the  generation 
for  the  next  twenty  years,  then  we  shall  go  as  they 
have  gone,  and  a  new  set  of  youngsters  take  our  places. 
It  is  all  right.  .  .  . 


BURGOS.  287 

Burgos,  May  2, 1883. 

My  dear  Lizzie,  —  Your  last  letter  gave  me  such 
a  lively  idea  of  what  was  going  on  in  New  York  that 
Burgos,  by  contrast,  seems  a  little  dull.  Nothing  goes 
on  in  Burgos  but  the  cathedral  bells.  My  breakfast, 
for  which  I  am  waiting,  does  not  seem  to  go  on  at  all. 
But  if  I  think  of  you  all  in  New  York,  it  will  make 
my  head  spin  as  much  as  is  good  for  it,  in  this  quiet 
place,  so  I  am  going  to  answer  your  letter,  in  hopes  to 
get  another. 

Wildes  would  have  been  so  proud  and  delighted  if 
he  could  have  seen  me  this  morning  at  1.17,  in  fact, 
from  that  to  3.12.  No  trains  in  Spain  ever  connect 
with  any  others,  so  I  was  left  over  all  that  time  at 
Venta  di  Bafios,  on  my  way  from  Leon  here.  And  I 
sat  in  the  railway  restaurant  at  that  dead  hour  of  the 
night  and  read  the  report  of  the  Eighth  Church  Con- 
gress, which  had  reached  me  just  before  I  started  on 
my  journey.  Think  of  it !  .  .  .  Was  ever  such  a 
tribute  paid  to  the  general  secretary  before  ?  I  was 
listening  still  to  Dr.  Shattuck's  account  of  the  early 
Ecclesiastical  History  of  Boston,  when  the  express 
train  from  Madrid  came  along,  and  I  got  in,  and  soon 
the  cathedral  of  Burgos  came  in  sight.  It  really  is  a 
very  great  cathedral,  the  first  I  have  seen  in  Spain. 

The  glorious  things  I  have  seen  in  Spain  have  been, 
first,  the  approach  to  Gibraltar  and  the  Pillars  of  Her- 
cules ;  second,  the  Alhambra,  with  the  Sierra  Nevada 
behind  it ;  and  third,  the  pictures  of  Yelasquez  at  Mad- 
rid. Those  things  are  all  superb,  worth  the  journey 
here  to  see,  if  there  were  nothing  else.  There  is  a  lot 
else  scattered  along  the  road,  but  those  are  the  great 
things,  and  as  to  Gothic  architecture,  he  who  has  seen 
Chartres,  Rheims,  Amiens,  and  Cologne  (to  say  nothing 


288         A    YEAR   m  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

of  York  and  Durliam)  need  not  be  impatient  about 
seeing  Seville,  or  Leon,  or  Toledo,  or  even  Burgos ; 
though  Burgos  is  far  the  finest  of  them  all,  and  must 
rank,  though  not  very  high,  among  the  greatest  cathe- 
drals of  the  world. 

There  is  something  in  their  architecture  that  is  like 
the  people,  a  trace  of  something  coarse,  a  lack  of  just 
the  best  refinement.  The  people  whose  great  medi- 
aeval glory  is  the  Inquisition,  and  whose  great  modern 
delight  is  the  bull-fight,  must  have  something  brutal 
in  their  very  constitution.  Now  the  Moors  were  thor- 
ough gentlemen,  not  a  touch  in  them  of  the  sham 
which  was  always  in  the  Hidalgo  ;  so  the  Moorish 
architecture  is  exquisite  in  its  refinement,  and  Ve- 
lasquez was  too  great  for  the  national  coarseness  to 
spoil  him,  though  he  has  it,  and  Gibraltar  belongs  to 
Eng^land !  So  that  Nature  and  the  Moors  and  Velas- 
quez  have  done  the  finest  things  in  Spain. 

.  .  .  To-morrow  I  go  to  Paris,  whence  I  started 
last  August  to  join  you  in  Cologne.  It  has  been  a 
long  loop,  and  has  inclosed  a  lot  of  pleasant  things. 
Now  the  summer  is  almost  here,  and  then  comes  — 
home.  My  friend  Mr.  Paine,  of  Boston,  talked  before 
I  left  of  coming  over  to  join  me,  about  the  first  of 
July,  and  I  think  he  will  do  so.  Write  me  what  you 
and  Arthur  are  doing  and  planning.  My  love  to  him. 
Affectionately,  Phillips. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
Whit  Sunday,  May  13,  1883. 

Dear  William,  — .  .  .  I  left  the  Brimmers  at 
Biarritz  and  came  over  here  from  Paris  last  Tuesday. 
Mr.  Brimmer  has  been  the  most  charming  com- 
pany, and  all  the  party  have  been  very  pleasant.     I 


LONDON.  289 

have  seen  a  good  many  people  since  I  arrived.  Every- 
body is  hospitable  and  kind.  This  morning  I  have 
been  preaching  for  Canon  Duckworth  at  St.  Mark's 
in  St.  John's  Wood. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  the  opening  of  the  great  Fish- 
eries Exhibition,  where  they  have  everything  you  can 
imagine,  from  any  land  you  ever  (or  never)  saw,  that 
has  anything  to  do  with  catching  fishes.  The  Prince 
and  Princess  of  Wales  were  there,  and  the  Prince 
made  a  speech.  I  saw  him  also  the  other  day  at  the 
Stanley  Memorial  Committee.  He  is  pleasant-looking 
and  has  easy  manners.  The  new  Dean  is  very  cor- 
dial and  friendly.  I  saw  the  new  Archbishop  the  other 
day.    He  looks  able  and  has  a  real  ecclesiastical  face. 

I  found  at  Barings'  the  two  packages  of  sermons  which 
you  so  kindly  sent,  and  I  was  grateful  to  you  in  the 
midst  of  the  row  and  hurly-burly  of  Bishopsgate  Street. 
They  were  just  what  I  wanted,  except  that  I  am  not 
to  preach  on  Hospital  Sunday  after  all.  Next  Sun- 
day morning  I  preach  at  the  Chapel  Royal,  Savoy, 
one  of  the  old  historic  churches  of  London.  The  fol- 
lowing Sunday  (27th)  I  preach  at  the  Abbey  in  the 
evening,  and  the  next  Sunday,  June  3d,  I  preach  for 
Farrar  in  St.  Margaret's. 

I  have  a  little  plan  in  which  I  need  your  help.  I 
want  to  send  home  some  little  thing  for  the  church, 
and  I  thought  I  would  get  a  piece  of  nice  stained 
glass  for  the  robing-room  window,  —  the  little  win- 
dow behind  which  we  put  on  our  surplices.  It  would 
brighten  up  a  little  that  rather  doleful  room.  Would 
you  go  to  Chester  and  make  him  measure  it  very  care- 
fully, giving  the  exact  size  of  the  glass  inside  the  frame, 
and  also  showing  how  much  of  the  window  is  arranged 
to  open.      Please  make  him  very  careful  about  the 


290         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA, 

exactness  of  the  measures.  Will  you  do  this  as  soon 
as  you  can,  so  that  I  can  see  about  it  while  I  am  in 
London  ? 

I  suppose  by  this  time  the  Andover  window  must 
be  in  its  place,  and  I  hope  it  is  quite  satisfactory.  I 
do  not  suppose  that  it  can  be  made  in  any  way  a 
memorial  of  the  aunts,  as  well  as  of  father  and  mo- 
ther. I  almost  wish  we  could  put  up  somewhere  a 
plain  tablet  with  their  names  upon  it,  that  they  might 
be  somehow  remembered  in  connection  with  the 
church.  They  offered,  I  believe,  at  one  time,  a  part 
of  the  old  orchard  as  the  site  for  it.  I  am  anxious  to 
hear  what  you  think  of  my  plans  regarding  the  old 
house.      The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  want  it. 

Speaking  of  windows,  I  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fred  Dex- 
ter in  church  to-night,  and  they  tell  me  that  the  new 
window  in  Trinity  is  wholly  satisfactory  and  very 
beautiful.  At  present  I  am  very  much  troubled  about 
the  little  triangle  in  front  of  Trinity.  It  looks  as  if 
it  would  be  built  on,  and  poor  Trinity  hidden  away 
behind  a  tenement  house.  If  you  meet  any  fellow  in 
the  street  who  looks  as  if  he  would  like  to  give  sixty 
thousand  dollars  to  keep  it  open,  stop  him  for  me  and 
tell  him  we  will  put  up  a  monument  to  him  in  Trinity 
when  he  dies.     Good-by. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
Sunday,  May  20,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  have  been  rich  in  letters  this 

last  week.     First  came  M 's,   poetry.  .  .  ,  Then 

Tood's  letter,  which  shows  how  wonderfully  the  female 
mind  is  getting  educated  in  America.  To  get  tlieso 
letters  a  few  days  after  they  were  written  makes  me 


LONDON.  291 

feel  as  if  I  were  almost  at  home.  On  the  strength  of 
them,  I  went  yesterday  and  engaged  a  passage  from 
Liverpool  for  Boston  on  the  Cephalonia,  which  sails 
the  12th  of  September.  So  that  I  ought  to  be  in 
Clarendon  Street  on  the  22d,  and  preach  in  Trinity 
on  the  23d  !     Will  you  be  glad  to  see  me  ? 

So  you  have  sold  your  old  house.  We  had  some 
very  good  times  there,  and  it  wiU  always  be  dear  to 
you.  I  hope  the  new  one  which  is  building  is  going 
to  see  the  happiest  years  of  aU.  We  are  all  good  for 
twenty  years  more,  and  they  shall  be  as  happy  as  the 
accumulations  of  the  past  can  make  them.  Now  I  am 
going  off  to  preach  at  the  Savoy  Chapel. 

Four  p.  M. 

I  have  been  and  preached.  There  was  a  great 
crowd,  and  everything  went  off  very  well.  .  .  .  Then 
I  took  lunch  with  the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts.  I 
am  going  there  to  a  dinner  on  Tuesday,  to  meet  the 
new  Archbishop.  .  .  . 

London  is  very  pleasant  now,  full  of  interesting  peo- 
ple. Friday  I  dined  at  Mr.  Lowell's,  with  Professor 
Huxley.  There  were  only  four  of  us,  so  that  we  had 
the  great  skeptic  all  to  ourselves,  and  he  was  very  in- 
teresting. Next  Saturday  I  am  going  to  Farrar's  to 
meet  a  lot  of  people.  Among  others,  Matthew  Arnold, 
whom  I  am  very  anxious  to  see.  He  is  coming  to 
America,  I  understand,  this  autumn. 

I  am  glad  John  preached  at  Trinity.  Tell  the  sup- 
plies to  hurry  up,  for  they  will  not  have  much  more 
chance.  I  am  coming  home  in  the  Cephalonia. 
Meanwhile,  why  cannot  you  run  over  and  join  Paine 
and  me  this  summer  ?  .  .  . 

Affectionately,  P. 


292         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 

May  27,  1883. 

My  dear  William,  —  I  am  very  late  about  my 
Sunday  letter.  The  fact  is,  I  am  just  home  from  the 
Abbey,  where  I  have  been  preaching  this  evening. 
There  was  the  same  great  throng  of  people  that  is 
always  there,  and  the  Abbey  was  as  solemn  and  glori- 
ous as  ever.  I  could  not  help  putting  into  my  sermon 
an  allusion  to  our  dear  little  Dean  of  old,  which  I 
think  the  people  were  glad  to  hear.  Then  we  went 
into  the  deanery,  just  the  way  we  used  to  do.  I  like 
the  new  Dean  very  much,  and  his  love  for  Stanley 
is  delightful.  Mrs.  Bradley  and  her  daughters  are 
also  very  pleasant.  A  young  fellow,  Hallam  Tenny- 
son, son  of  the  Poet  Laureate,  was  there.  Does  it 
not  make  "In  Memoriam"  seem  very  real  to  meet 
those  two  names  together  ?  He  is  a  very  nice  fellow, 
and  asked  me  to  come  down  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  and 
see  his  father,  which  I  have  a  great  mind  to  do.  I 
preached  for  Canon  Boyd  Carpenter  this  morning,  at 
Christ  Church,  Lancaster  Gate,  near  Hyde  Park. 
Next  Sunday  morning,  I  am  to  preach  in  old  St. 
Margaret's  for  Farrar,  which  will  be  very  interesting. 
He  gave  me  a  big  dinner  last  night,  with  many  clerical 
folk,  the  most  interesting  of  whom  was  Lightfoot,  the 
Bishop  of  Durham,  one  of  the  great  scholars  of  the 
English  Church.  Matthew  Arnold  was  to  have  been 
there,  but  at  the  last  moment  he  was  invited  to  dine 
with  Prince  Leopold,  and  it  seems  that  means  a  com- 
mand, and  breaks  every  other  engagement.  .  .  .  Far- 
rar has  asked  me  to  lunch  with  him  next  Thursday, 
so  I  shall  see  him  there. 

I  went  on  Tuesday  to  a  tremendous  dinner  party 
at  the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts's,  with  sweUs  as  thick 


LONDON.  293 

as  huckleberries.  Then,  for  variety,  I  went  on  Thurs- 
day  night   with   K to   an   all-night   meeting   of 

the  Salvation  Army,  what  they,  in  their  disagree- 
able lingo,  call  "  All  night  with  Jesus."  They  close 
the  doors  at  eleven,  and  do  not  let  anybody  go  out  till 
haK  past  four  a.  m.  We  made  arrangements  before 
going  in  that  we  should  be  let  out  at  one  A.  M.,  and  then 
we  had  to  drive  an  hour  in  a  hansom  to  get  home. 
The  meeting  was  noisy  and  unpleasant,  but  there  was 
nothing  very  bad  about  it,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  it 
might  not  do  good  to  somebody. 

One  lovely  day  this  week  I  went  on  a  Cromwell 
pilgrimage  to  Huntington,  where  Oliver  was  born,  and 
saw  the  register  of  his  baptism,  the  house  in  which  he 
was  born,  and  the  country  in  the  midst  of  which  he 
grew  up.  It  was  the  sweetest  of  days,  with  the  apple- 
trees  in  full  blossom,  and  the  hawthorn  hedges  just 
opening  in  white  and  pink.  These  and  many  other 
things  have  filled  up  my  time  very  full,  but  it  is  very 
delightful. 

I  shall  spend  two  more  Sundays  in  London ;  then, 
on  the  17th  of  June,  I  preach  for  Dean  Plumptre 
at  Wells,  and  probably  on  the  26th  at  Lincoln.  I 
am  going  also  to  make  a  little  visit  to  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester. 

.  .  .  The  23d  of  September  will  soon  be  here,  and 
who  knows  but  we  may  be  all  together  in  the  old 
Andover  house  by  the  summer  of  1884?  I  hope 
nothing  will  interfere  with  my  plans  there.  I  wish 
you  were  here  for  to-morrow.  We  would  get  up  a 
'scursion.  .  .  .  Affectionately,  P. 


294         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Wkstminstbr  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
June  3,  1883. 

My  dear  Tood,  —  Your  wicked  papa  has  not  sent 
me  any  letter  this  week,  and  so  I  am  not  going  to 
write  to  him  to-day,  but  I  shall  answer  your  beautiful 
letter,  which  traveled  all  the  way  to  London,  and  was 
delivered  here  by  a  postman  with  a  red  coat,  two  or 
three  weeks  ago.  He  looked  very  proud  when  he 
came  in,  as  if  he  knew  that  he  had  a  beautiful  letter 
in  his  bundle,  and  all  the  people  in  the  street  stood 
aside  to  make  way  for  him,  so  that  Tood's  letter  might 
not  be  delayed. 

How  quickly  you  have  learned  to  read  and  write ! 
I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  for  they  now  will  make  you 
read  and  study  a  great  many  stupid  books,  and  you 
will  have  to  write  letters  all  your  days.  When  I  get 
home,  I  am  going  to  make  you  write  my  sermons  for 
me,  and  I  think  of  engaging  you  for  my  amanuensis 
at  a  salary  of  twenty  cents  a  month,  with  which  you 
can  buy  no  end  of  gumdrops.  If  you  do  not  know' 
what  an  amanuensis  is,  ask  Agnes,  and  tell  her  I  will 
bring  her  a  present  if  she  can  spell  it  right  the  first 
time. 

Poor  little  Gertie !  What  a  terrible  time  she  has 
had.  It  must  have  been  very  good  for  her  to  have 
you  to  take  care  of  her,  and  run  her  errands,  and  play 
with  her,  and  write  her  letters.  I  suppose  that  is 
the  reason  why  you  hurried  so  and  learned  to  write. 
It  was  a  great  pity  that  I  never  got  her  letter  about 
the  Christmas  presents,  but  I  am  very  glad  that  you 
liked  the  coupe.  What  do  you  want  me  to  bring 
you  home  from  London?  Write  me  another  letter 
and  tell  me,  and  tell  Gertie  I  shall  be  very  happy 
when  I  get  another  letter  from  her  written  with  her 
own  little  fingers. 


LONDON.  295 

I  want  to  see  your  new  house,  which  I  am  sure  will 
be  very  pretty.  I  wonder  where  you  are  going  to  be 
this  summer?  Now,  I  am  going  off  to  preach  in  a 
queer  old  church  built  almost  a  thousand  years  ago, 
before  your  father  or  mother  was  bom.  Give  my 
love  to  them,  and  to  Agnes,  and  to  Gertie,  and  to  the 
new  doll.     Your  affectionate  uncle  Phillips. 

London,  June  10,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  This  past  week  has  been  happy 
in  two  letters  from  you.  The  week  before  I  had 
none,  as  I  remarked  in  my  letter  to  Toody  of  last 
Sunday.  That  seems  to  have  been  only  an  ac- 
cident of  the  mails,  and  not  to  mean  any  failure  of 
brotherly  kindness.  For  the  riches  of  this  week  I  am 
sincerely  thankful,  but  it  was  sad  news  that  your  let- 
ter brought  about  the  death  of  Miss  Harmon.  A 
long  letter  from  Allen  came  at  the  same  time,  but  I 
opened  yours  first  and  so  learned  it  from  you.  She 
was  a  good,  true  woman,  and  the  amount  of  help 
which  she  has  given  to  the  poor  and  comfort  to  the 
suffering  is  incalculable.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
trusting  so  much  to  her  of  that  part  of  the  work  for 
which  I  have  not  the  time  and  am  not  well  fitted  to 
do,  that  I  shall  miss  her  more  than  I  can  say.  Her 
place  can  never  be  filled,  and  how  we  can  manage  to 
get  along  without  her  I  do  not  see  at  once.  It  was 
a  hard  life,  but  I  do  not  know  where  one  could  see 
a  more  useful  one 

I  have  been  preaching  in  St.  Paul's  to-day  by  invi- 
tation of  the  Bishop  of  London.  It  is  Hospital  Sun- 
day; the  Lord  Mayor  and  Sheriffs  came  in  state,  and 
there  was  an  enormous  crowd  there,  but  it  is  too  aw- 
fully big,  bald  and  barren,  and  needs  color  dreadfully. 


296         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

I  should  rather  have  the  Abbey,  although  it  is  good  to 
get  one  chance  at  the  great  Cathedral.  On  Wednes- 
day I  am  going  to  another  great  London  sight.  I 
am  to  dine  with  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  Lady 
Mayoress  at  the  Mansion  House,  to  meet  the  Arch- 
bishop and  the  Bishops,  —  a  great  city  dinner  with 
turtle  soup  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It  will  be  good 
fun.  Next  Sunday  1  am  going  to  spend  at  Wells 
with  Plumptre,  whom  you  remember,  and  who  is  now 
Dean  of  Wells.  It  is  one  of  the  prettiest  cathedrals 
in  England.  John  and  I  went  there  three  years  ago. 
On  the  21st  I  am  going  down  to  the  Isle  of  Wight 
to  spend  a  day  and  a  night  at  Tennyson's.  I  have 
been,  and  am  going,  to  a  great  many  dinners  and 
receptions ;  everybody  is  very  hospitable  and  kind, 
and  it  is  very  amusing. 

In  a  few  weeks  I  shall  be  ready  to  puU  up  and  be 
off  for  the  Continent  again.  I  am  going  on  Tuesday 
to  stay  with  the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  and  to-morrbw 
I  go  with  him  to  hear  the  discussion  on  the  marriage 
with  the  deceased  wife's  sister  in  the  House  of  Lords. 
That  is  the  question  which  now  is  keeping  England 
excited.  I  have  an  invitation  from  the  University  at 
Cambridge  to  come  next  spring  in  May,  and  preach 
three  sermons  before  them.  Do  you  think  I  could  do 
it  ?     Give  my  love  to  everybody. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Deanery,  Wells,  June  17, 1883. 
Dear  William,  —  No  letter  from  you  the  past  week. 
I  suppose  there  are  two  upon  their  way,  and  I  shall 
get  them  both  in  a  day  or  two.  Meanwhile,  I  will 
not  break  my  habit  of  a  weekly  letter,  of  which  I  am 
quite  proud,  for  I  have  kept  it  up  without  a  break  all 


WELLS.  297 

this  year.  Just  think,  it  was  a  year  next  Wednesday 
that  we  were  all  huddled  together  on  the  Servia,  and 
saw  the  last  of  one  another  in  that  tremendous  crowd. 
It  has  been  a  delightful  year,  but  one  is  not  sorry  to 
think  that  it  is  over,  and  only  the  last  flourish  of  it  left 
before  one  turns  his  face  homeward. 

Do  you  remember  Dean  Plumptre,  and  the  day  he 
preached  at  Trinity  ?  He  has  grown  older,  and  is  now 
Dean  of  Wells,  and  1  am  staying  with  him  ;  in  a  few 
minutes  I  am  going  to  preach  for  him,  in  one  of  the 
loveliest  of  the  cathedrals.  He  is  a  true  scholar  and 
an  interesting  man.  His  wife  was  a  sister  of  the  great 
theological  teacher,  Frederick  Maurice.  .  .  .  There  is 
staying  here  a  son  of  Maurice's,  Colonel  Maurice,  who 
was  in  South  Africa  at  Tel  El  Kebir,  and  who  is  writ- 
ing his  father's  Life.  He  is  a  very  charming  person 
and  makes  my  little  visit  much  pleasanter  than  it  could 
otherwise  have  been.  Then  close  by  lives  Freeman, 
the  historian,  whose  lectures  at  the  Lowell  Listitute 
you  and  I  went  to  hear.  Colonel  Maurice  and  I  are 
going  to  his  house  to  dinner  this  evening.  ...  I 
dined  the  other  day  with  another  Lowell  lecturer, 
Professor  Bryce,  whom  we  also  went  to  hear  together, 
and  who  is  the  pleasantest  of  men  and  hosts.  Stop- 
ford  Brooke  was  there,  and  other  interesting  people. 
One  other  evening  last  week  I  was  at  the  Mansion 
House  at  the  Lord  Mayor's  dinner  to  the  Archbishops 
and  Bishops.  We  had  the  city  of  London's  famous 
turtle  soup  and  ever  so  many  curious  customs.  .  .  . 

Only  think,  I  am  writing  in  a  room  which  the  Dean 
of  Wells  built  in  1472,  in  which  to  entertain  Henry 
VII.  when  he  was  coming  back  from  the  conquest 
of  Perkin  Warbeck.  Does  n't  that  sound  old  and 
bric-a-brac-ish  ?  ... 


298         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Farbingfobd,  Freshwater, 
Isle  of  Wight,  June  22,  1883. 

Dear  Mary,  —  Here  is  another  place  which  seems 
interesting  enough  to  be  worthy  of  a  few  lines  to 
you.  Besides,  it  is  the  home  of  a  brother  poet  of 
yours,  for  Tennyson  is  sleeping  somewhere  downstairs, 
and  that  will  interest  you.  So,  as  they  do  not  have 
any  breakfast  until  half  past  nine,  and  I  am  up  and 
dressed  at  eight,  here  goes  for  a  little  letter. 

I  came  down  here  yesterday,  a  long  three  hours*  run 
from  London,  through  a  very  pretty  country,  passing 
Winchester  cathedral  and  other  attractive  things  upon 
the  way.  At  last  we  crossed  the  Channel  in  a  little 
cockleshell  of  a  steamboat,  and  landed  at  Yaimouth, 
where  Hallam  Tennyson  was  waiting  for  me  with  the 
carriage.  Then  a  pretty  drive  over  the  Downs,  with 
two  or  three  small  villages  upon  the  way,  brought  us, 
in  about  three  miles,  to  this  house.  Here  -the  great 
poet  lives.  He  is  finer  than  his  pictures,  a  man  of 
good  six  feet  and  over,  but  stooping  as  he  walks,  for 
he  is  seventy-four  years  old,  and  we  shall  stoop  if  we 
ever  live  to  that  age.  A  big  dome  of  a  head,  bald  on 
the  forehead  and  the  top,  and  very  fine  to  look  at. 
His  hair,  where  he  is  not  bald,  an  iron-gray,  with 
much  whiter  mustache  and  beard,  a  deep  bright  eye, 
a  grand,  eagle  nose,  a  mouth  which  you  cannot  see,  a 
black  felt  hat,  and  a  loose  tweed  suit.  These  were 
what  I  noticed  in  the  author  of  "  In  Memoriam." 

The  house  is  a  delightful  old  rambling  thing,  whose 
geography  one  never  learns,  not  elegant  but  very  com- 
fortable, covered  with  pictures  inside  and  ivies  outside, 
with  superb  ilexes  and  other  trees  about  it,  and  lovely 
pieces  of  view  over  the  Channel  here  and  there. 

He  was  just  as  good  as  he  could  be,  and  we   all 


ISLE   OF  WIGHT.  299 

went  to  a  place  behind  the  house,  where  the  trees 
leave  a  large  circle,  with  beautiful  grass,  and  tables 
and  chairs  scattered  about.  Here  we  sat  down  and 
talked.  Tennyson  was  inclined  to  be  misanthropic, 
talked  about  Socialism,  Atheism,  and  another  great 
catastrophe  like  the  French  Revolution  coming  on  the 
world.  He  declared  that  if  he  were  a  Yankee,  he 
woidd  be  ashamed  to  keep  the  Alabama  money,  but  he 
let  himself  be  contradicted  about  his  gloomy  views,  and 
by  and  by  became  more  cheerful.  We  had  tea  out  of 
doors,  took  a  walk  for  various  views,  then,  having  come 
to  know  me  pretty  well,  he  wanted  to  know  if  I  smoked, 
and  we  went  up  to  the  study,  a  big,  bright,  crowded 
room,  where  he  writes  his  Idyls,  and  there  we  stayed 
till  dinner  time. 

Dinner  was  very  lively.  Mrs.  Tennyson  is  a  dear 
old  lady,  a  great  invalid,  as  sweet  and  pathetic  as  a 
picture.  Then  there  are  staying  here  Mr.  Lushington, 
a  great  Greek  scholar,  a  Miss  B.,  who  knows  every- 
body and  tells  funny  stories,  and  another  Miss  B., 
her  pretty  niece,  with  the  loveliest  smile.  After 
dinner,  Tennyson  and  I  went  up  to  the  study  again, 
and  I  had  him  to  myself  for  two  or  three  hours.  We 
smoked,  and  he  talked  of  metaphysics,  and  poetry, 
and  religion,  his  own  life,  and  Hallam,  and  all  the 
poems.  It  was  very  delightful,  for  he  was  gentle, 
and  reverent,  and  tender,  and  hopeful.  Then  we  went 
down  to  the  drawing-room,  where  the  rest  were,  and 
he  read  his  poetry  to  us  till  the  clock  said  twelve. 
"LocksleyHall,"  "  Sir  Galahad,"  pieces  of  "  Maud," 
(which  he  specially  likes  to  read),  and  some  of  his 
dialect  poems.  He  said,  by  the  way,  in  reading  "  Locks- 
ley  Hall  "  that  the  verse  beginning 

"  Love  took  up  the  glass  of  time,"  etc., 


300         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

was  the  best  simile  he  ever  made ;  and  that  and  a  cer- 
tain line  in  the  "  Gardener's  Daughter,"  were  the  ones 
on  which  he  most  piqued  himself.  Just  after  midnight 
we  came  up  to  bed.  They  had  the  prettiest  way  at 
dinner  of  getting  up  before  the  fruit  came  and  going 
into  the  drawing-room,  where  there  was  a  fresh  table 
spread  by  the  window,  looking  out  on  the  lawn  and 
Channel. 

Well,  so  much  about  Tennyson.     Thanks  for  your 
letter,  which  was  very  good  to  get.  .  .  . 

The  Pkecentory,  Lincoln,  June  23, 1883. 
Dear  William,  —  Is  it  not  pretty  hard,  when  I 
think  I  have  a  beautiful  long  letter  from  you,  to  open 
it  and  find  nothing  except  some  circulars  ?  You  might 
at  least  have  written  on  the  back  of' them.  ...  I  sent 
a  photograph  to  G.,  the  other  day,  which  I  hope  she 
likes.  Yesterday  I  came  down  here.  Do  you  re- 
member Lincoln?  The  cathedral  is  very  gorgeous, 
and  the  old  town  is  quaint.  Last  night,  the  Pre- 
centor, with  whom  I  am  staying,  had  a  dinner-party 
of  the  clergy,  with  deans,  sub-deans,  and  canons.  The 
Bishop  of  Lincoln  was  there,  Wordsworth,  nephew  of 
the  poet,  a  man  who  ought  to  have  lived  five  centuries 
ago.  He  said  he  thought  the  present  House  of  Lords 
would  not  last  more  than  five  years  longer,  and  ought 
not  to,  because  they  had  passed  a  bill  allowing  a  man  to 
marry  his  deceased  wife's  sister  !  The  Precentor,  my 
host,  is  a  nice  old  gentleman,  and  the  place  is  very 
beautiful  and  full  of  association.  ...  I  preached  this 
morning  in  the  cathedral,  close  to  the  place  where  St. 
Hugo  lies  buried,  and  took  tea  this  afternoon  with  the 
sub-dean,  in  the  room  where  Paley,  who  used  to  be 
sub-dean  here,  wrote  his  "  Natural  Theology." 


LONDON.  301 

To-morrow,  I  go  back  to  London.  On  Wednesday, 
Paine  arrives  from  America,  and  my  subsequent  move- 
ments will  be  somewhat  governed  by  him.  Indeed, 
the  12th  of  September  seems  so  near  that  it  does  not 
much  matter  what  one  does  between.  .  .  . 


Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
Sunday,  July  1,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  You  are  forty-nine  years  old 
to-morrow !  Are  you  glad  or  sorry  ?  Almost  half  a 
century,  you  see,  and  the  only  bother  about  it  is  that 
there  is  so  much  less  remaining,  for  life  has  been  very 
good,  and  one  wishes  there  were  more  of  it.  I  wish 
we  were  all  going  to  live  to  be  five  hxmdred.  But 
no  matter!  There  are  pleasant  times  still  ahead, 
and  we  will  make  the  most  of  them,  so  that  when 
another  forty-nine  years  are  past,  and  you  are  ninety- 
eight,  we  shall  agree  that  the  second  half  has  been 
even  better  than  the  first.  I  am  all  the  more  in  a 
hurry  to  get  home  and  begin  the  new  period,  now  that 
you  are  forty-nine,  seven  times  seven,  which  they  say 
is  the  grand  climacteric  of  life.  But  to-night  I  send 
you  my  heartiest  God  bless  you,  and  congratulations 
upon  all  the  past  and  hopes  for  all  the  future. 

I  am  writing  in  Paine's  room,  for  he  has  the  luxury 
of  a  parlor,  and  I  use  it  as  if  it  were  my  own.  He 
arrived  on  Wednesday,  and  I  was  glad  enough  to  see 
him ;  since  then  we  have  talked  over  a  thousand 
things.  It  is  wonderfully  like  being  at  home  again  to 
hear  so  directly  from  you  all.  .  .  . 

I  preached  for  Dr.  Vaughan  at  the  Temple,  this 
morning.  It  was  a  noble  congregation,  the  church 
packed  with  lawyers,  and  the  service  very  beautiful. 
The  good  doctor  had  a  long  surplice  made  especially 


302        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

for  the  occasion,  and  presented  it  to  me  as  a  memento, 
so  the  Temple  surplice  will  stand  in  Trinity  pulpit  for 
many  years.  Last  Sunday  I  wrote  to  you  from  Lin- 
coln. I  came  back  from  there  on  Monday,  and  have 
had  a  very  interesting  week.  There  was  a  dinner  at  the 
Bishop  of  Carlisle's,  with  many  interesting  people, 
an  evening  in  the  House  of  Lords,  where  the  bill  for 
allowing  marriage  with  the  deceased  wife's  sister  got 
defeated,  a  luncheon  down  at  Dulwich,  whither  I  went 
with  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  and  Dr.  Boyd  of  St. 
Andrew's,  who  wrote  the  "  Recreations  of  a  Country 
Parson."  At  luncheon  I  sat  between  Robert  Brown- 
ing and  Jean  Ingelow,  and  had  a  delightful  time. 
Then  I  went  down  to  the  Tower  with  a  party  of  gov- 
ernment people,  Gladstone,  and  Foster,  and  Bright, 
and  others.  There  was  an  evening  party  at  Lady  Stan- 
ley's, where  I  saw  Browning  again,  and  yesterday 
afternoon  Newman  Hall  gave  me  a  party.  These  and 
some  other  things  have  filled  the  week,  and  it  has 
been  most  enjoyable.  To-morrow,  I  am  going  down 
with  Farrar  to  spend  a  night  with  a  friend  of  his  in 
the  country,  to  meet  Matthew  Arnold,  who  lives  some- 
where there. 

This  afternoon,  Paine  and  I  drove  out  to  Hamp- 
stead  Heath  and  saw  Holiday,  who  made  his  and  Mr. 
Morrill's  windows.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  was 
when  I  went  to  order  Paine's  window,  when  you  and  I 
were  in  London  together.  How  I  wish  you  were  here 
now !  Paine  is  deeply  interested  in  charity  organiza- 
tions, dispensaries,  police  stations,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  We  shall  stay  here  probably  three,  certainly 
two  weeks  longer,  and  then  be  off  for  the  great  Conti- 
nent. It  has  grown  quite  hot,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
more  we  shall  be  glad  to  be  away.     There  are  a  great 


LONDON.  303 

many  Americans  here.  ...  I  watcli  every  letter  to 
hear  what  your  plans  are  for  the  summer,  and  where 
you  will  be  when  I  get  home.  Already  the  promise  of 
autumn  begins  to  appear.  Allen  has  written  to  ask 
me  to  a  dinner  of  the  club  on  the  24th  of  September, 
and  President  Eliot  wants  me  to  take  morning  prayers 
at  Cambridge  during  November.  This  is  Commence- 
ment week.  You  have  had  Arthur  and  John  with 
you,  I  suppose,  and  I  hope  that  you  talked  about  me. 

Good-by,  my  love  to  G . 

Your  affectionate  P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  July  8, 1883. 

Dear  William,  — .  .  .  I  am  having  a  first-rate 
time,  but  it  is  all  the  pleasanter  because  it  is  not  going 
to  last  forever.  The  Cephalonia  (No.  28  is  our  room) 
will  sail  on  the  12th  of  September.  I  will  tell  you 
what  I  have  been  doing  this  week. 

Monday,  I  went  down  to  the  country  to  stay  with 
Mr.  Leaf,  a  friend  of  Farrar's.  It  was  a  lovely  place, 
with  a  glorious  park,  great  trees,  and  a  sumptuous 
house.  There  we  passed  an  idle  day,  and  in  the  even- 
ing had  a  big  dinner,  to  which  came  Matthew  Arnold 
and  his  daughter,  who  live  close  by.  He  was  very 
amusing,  and  the  next  morning  I  went  to  breakfast 
with  him,  saw  his  wife,  his  house  and  study,  and  liked 
him  very  much.  He  has  promised  to  stay  with  me 
when  he  comes  to  Boston. 

On  Tuesday,  I  came  back  to  town,  and  we  had  a 
pleasant  dinner  party  that  night  at  the  house  of  a  Mr. 
Mills.  After  that  was  over,  I  went  to  one  of  Mrs. 
Gladstone's  receptions,  to  which  I  was  invited  to  see 
the  Grand  Old  Man ;  he  had  to  go  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  so  I  did  not  see  him ;  but  I  am 


304         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

going  there  again  next  Tuesday.  Wednesday  was  the 
4th  of  July,  which  we  celebrated  by  calling  on  the 
American  minister.  Thursday  was  speech  day  at 
Harrow  School,  and  Paine  and  I  went.  I  was  there 
with  John  three  years  ago,  and  was  glad  to  go  again. 
The  boys  spoke  well,  and  it  was  very  bright  and  quite 
like  Class  Day.  Then  we  had  a  luncheon,  where  Lord 
Dufferin  and  I  made  speeches.  When  I  came  back  I 
went  to  dinner  at  Lady  Frances  Baillie's,  the  sister  of 
Dean  Stanley's  wife.  It  was  very  pleasant.  We  had 
Grove,  and  Robert  Browning,  and  the  Bishop  of  Litch- 
field; and  my  companion  was  Mrs.  Ritchie  (Thack- 
eray's daughter),  who  wrote  "The  Village  on  the 
Cliff"  and  all  those  nice  novels,  and  who  told  me  a 
great  deal  about  her  father.  Friday,  I  went  to  Rich- 
mond and  saw  the  prettiest  view  in  England,  and  in 
the  evening  dined  with  the  Precentor  at  the  Abbey. 
After  dinner,  we  went  into  the  Abbey  and  strolled 
about  in  the  dark,  with  wonderfully  pretty  effects  in 
the  great  arches.  Saturday,  I  went  to  a  garden  party 
at  Fulham  Palace,  the  Bishop  of  London's,  where 
there  were  many  clergymen,  and  in  the  evening  ten 
miles  out  of  town  to  Upper  Tooting,  where  I  dined 
with  Mr.  Macmillan,  the  publisher. 

Have  you  read  "  John  Inglesant "  ?  Mr.  Short- 
house,  the  man  who  wrote  it,  was  the  principal  guest,  and 
there  were  a  great  many  agreeable  people.  This  morn- 
ing, we  went  to  the  Foundling  Hospital  and  heard  the 
children  sing,  so  the  week  has  gone  with  a  good  deal 
of  sight-seeing  to  fill  up  the  gaps.  Everybody  is  hospi- 
table and  kind,  and  it  would  be  pleasant  to  stay  here 
a  long  time  ;  but  our  departure  now  is  definitely  fixed 
for  the  19th,  when  we  shall  go  somewhere  on  the  Con- 
tinent.    We  do  not  yet  know  where,  or  I  would  tel] 


LONDON.  305 

you,  but  no  doubt  our  uncertainty  will  solve  itself  in 
the  course  of  the  next  week,  and  by  next  Sunday  I  can 
tell  you  something  of  our  summer's  route.  All  the 
time,  while  our  weather  here  is  delightful,  you  are 
sweltering  in  heat.  This  morning's  paper  says  the 
heat  in  New  York  yesterday  was  terrible.  I  am  awfully 
sorry  for  you.  Do  take  a  steamer  and  come  over,  you 
and  the  total  family,  and  we  will  lie  upon  the  grass 
in  Hyde  Park  together  till  you  all  get  cool.  .  .  . 
God  bless  you  all  always.  P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
July  10,  1883. 

My  Dear  Gertie,  —  ...  I  wish  you  were  here, 
for  it  is  beautifully  fresh  and  cool,  and  we  would  go  off 
and  see  some  kind  of  pretty  things.  I  went  down  into 
the  country  the  other  day,  and  saw  some  people  whom 
I  met  on  the  journey  home  from  India.  It  was  the 
prettiest  place,  and  you  would  have  enjoyed  it  ever  so 
much. 

They  had  the  biggest  strawberries  you  ever  saw,  and 
you  would  have  enjoyed  picking  them  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  did.  I  wish  strawberries  grew  on  trees. 
They  would  be  so  much  easier  to  pick.  There  was  a 
nice  little  girl  there  who  was  a  great  friend  of  mine 
on  the  voyage.  Her  name  is  Nora,  and  she  gave  me 
her  photograph.  I  think  I  will  put  it  into  this  letter, 
so  that  you  can  see  what  an  English  child  looks  like, 
only»  you  must  keep  it  safe  and  give  it  to  me  when  I  get 
to  Boston,  for  I  told  Nora  Buchanan  that  I  should 
keep  it  till  I  saw  her  again.  Her  father  has  a  tea 
plantation  up  in  the  Himalaya  Mountains,  and  her 
mother  and  she  go  there  every  winter.  She  has  got  a 
pony  named  Brownie,  and  a  big  dog  and  a  little  dog, 
and  lots  of  pets. 


306         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

When  we  get  to  living  up  in  the  old  house  at  An- 
clover,  we  will  have  some  dogs  too,  and  perhaps  some 
day  we  will  get  a  pony  for  you  to  ride  on  ;  or  would 
vou  rather  have  a  donkey  with  long  ears,  and  a 
delightful  little  cart  to  drive  in  ?  What  did  you  do 
on  the  4th  of  Jidy  ?  The  people  here  seemed  to  think 
that  it  was  just  like  any  other  day ;  nobody  was  firing 
crackers,  or  blowing  soap  bubbles,  and  there  were  no 
American  flags  flying  anywhere ;  but  one  day,  two 
weeks  ago,  London  was  greatly  excited,  it  being  the 
Queen's  Coronation  Day,  and  I  met  the  Lord  Mayor 
in  his  coach,  with  a  red  cloak  on  and  a  big  gold  chain 
around  his  neck.  I  thank  you  so  much  for  your  little 
note,  and  for  the  picture  of  yourself,  which  is  set  up 
in  my  room.  You  must  write  to  me  again  when 
you  can,  and  I  will  see  you  in  September.  By  that 
time  you  must  be  well  and  fat  and  rosy.  Now  good- 
by.     My  love  to  Agnes  and  Toodie. 

Your  loving  uncle,  P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  July  15,  1883. 

Dear  William,  — .  .  .  On  Thursday  next,  the 
19th,  we  leave  England.  We  had  to  fix  some  certain 
day  and  hold  to  it,  or  we  should  have  never  got  away. 
We  go  first  through  France  into  the  Pyrenees,  where 
we  shall  get  a  little  journey,  just  enough  to  see  what 
they  are  like,  and  then  by  interesting  routes,  more 
or  less  out  of  the  way,  into  the  Tyrol  through  Swit- 
zerland. Next  Sunday,  July  22,  we  probably  shall 
spend  at  Bagneres  de  Luchon,  pretty  near  the  Spanish 
border.  I  am  sorry  to  leave  London,  and  never  shall 
forget  my  two  months  here.  It  has  been  great  fun, 
and  the  hospitality  of  everybody  has  been  most 
abundant.     The   last  week   has    been    busy    socially. 


LONDON.  307 

The  pleasantest  evening,  perhaps,  was  Tuesday  at  Mr. 
Gladstone's,  where  I  had  a  good  sight  of  and  talk  with 
the  great  man,  and  gazed  at  a  multitude  of  splendid 
folks  with  diamonds  and  titles.  He  is  certainly  the 
greatest  man  in  England,  and  the  look  of  him  is  quite 
worthy  of  his  fame.  Another  evening  I  dined  in  the 
Jerusalem  Chamber  with  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  the 
Abbey,  and  the  members  of  their  choir.  That  was 
very  jolly,  and  recalled  the  time  eight  years  ago  when 
I  went  to  the  same  dinner  and  sat  by  Stanley's  side. 
This  morning  I  am  going  to  preach  for  Llewellyn 
Davis,  whom  you  and  I  once  went  to  hear  in  St.  Paul's. 
He  is  a  most  interesting  man  and  one  of  the  best 
spirits  in  the  English  Church.  This  will  be  my  last 
sermon  in  England.  Mr.  Macmillan  has  asked  me  to 
publish  the  sermons  which  I  have  preached  here,  un- 
der the  title  "  Sermons  Preached  to  English  Congre- 
gations," and  I  have  about  made  up  my  mind  to  do  so. 
He  is  the  publisher  of  my  last  volume.  This  one  will 
have  thirteen  sermons,  and  be  a  pleasant  memento  of 
my  English  visit.  I  have  declined  the  invitation  to 
come  and  preach  at  Cambridge  next  spring,  but  they 
have  intimated  that  it  will  be  repeated  some  other 
year,  and  then  I  should  like  to  come  and  make  a  uni- 
versity visit.  I  have  seen  nothing  of  the  universities 
this  time. 

I  want  to  see  you  all  dreadfully.  ...  P. 

London,  July  15,  1883. 

My  dear  Hattie,  ^  —  It  was  most  kind  of  you  to 
take  up  the  pen  which  your  husband  had  so  long 
dropped,  and  write  me  the  pleasant  letter  which  I 
got  last  week,  and  it  seems  that  its  quiet  rebuke  was 
felt,  for  John  wrote  the  next  day.     Behold  the  noble 

^  A  sister-iu-law« 


308  A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

influence  of  a  good  wife  !  .  .  .  Now  I  think  of  you  as 
having  the  happiest  of  summers  in  your  seashore  home. 
As  I  listen  Mar  ion  wards,  I  hear  a  rich,  low  sound  of 
which  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  it  is  the  moaning 
of  the  sea,  as  it   beats  on  your  back  doorstep,  or   the 

theological  discussions  of  B ,  P ,  and  J 

under  the  haystack.  Either  sound  would  be  delight- 
ful. To  have  them  both  together  in  your  ears  all  day 
must  be  a  little  heaven  below,  and  it  must  be  all  the 
pleasanter  to  you  this  year,  because  you  can  look 
back  to  such  a  bright,  successful  winter  in  Springfield, 
and  look  forward  to  another,  which  will  no  doubt 
be  still  better.  I  am  so  thankful  to  hear  of  the  way 
in  which  every  difficulty  has  disappeared.  ...  I  wish 
I  could  hope  to  run  to  Marion  this  autumn,  and  see 
you  on  your  own  rocks,  with  your  young  barbarians  at 
play  about  you.  But  I  shall  be  home  too  late,  and 
dear  me !  I  sometimes  pleasantly  shiver  in  the  midst 
of  this  delightful  idleness  at  the  thought  of  how  much 
there  is  to  do  next  winter.  It  is  like  thinking  of 
January  in  July.  But,  fortunately,  less  and  less  de- 
pends on  us,  and  the  younger  clergy,  who  read  Second 
Lessons  at  the  Diocesan  Convention,  have  the  brunt 
of  the  battle. 

Give  my  tenderest  love  to  your  young  clergyman. 
Tell  him  I  thank  him  heartily  for  his  letter.  Be  sure 
that  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  yours.  Kiss  the  babies 
for  me,  and  remember  that  I  am  always, 

Affectionately,  P. 

Pau,  Sunday,  July  22,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  The  curtain  has  fallen  and  risen 
again;  the  whole  scene  has  changed.  London,  with 
all  its  fun,  is  far  away,  and  here  we  are  close  to  the 


PAU.  309 

Pyrenees.  It  is  delightfully  cool  and  pleasant,  and 
the  view  out  of  my  window  is  wonderfully  beautiful. 
I  have  time  enough  to  look  at  it,  for  I  am  laid  up 
with  a  lame  leg.  On  the  way  from  Chartres  to  Bor- 
deaux I  struck  my  leg  in  leaving  the  railway  coach, 
and  this  morning  I  sent  for  a  French  doctor,  who  bade 
me  lie  still  to-day.  So  here  I  am,  writing,  like  M.,  on 
a  book  instead  of  a  table.  The  queer  little  doctor 
assures  me  that  it  will  be  all  right  to-morrow  morning, 
and  then  we  shall  push  on  up  to  Eaux  Bonnes.  It  is 
only  a  bruise,  I  believe.  Paine  is  as  kind  as  kind  can 
be,  and  does  everything  for  me,  and  we  are  having  a 
delightful  time.  Just  now  he  has  gone  out  to  see  the 
town,  and  I  am  trying  to  write  in  this  miserable  way 
upon  my  back. 

I  am  busy  getting  my  volume  of  sermons  ready  for 
Macmillan.  Seven  of  them  are  finished,  and  there 
will  be  seven  more.  The  volume  will  be  called  "  Ser- 
mons Preached  in  English  Churches,"  and  will  be 
dedicated  "  To  many  friends  in  England,  in  remem- 
brance of  their  cordial  welcome."  I  never  can  forget 
how  hospitable  English  people  were.  I  counted  up, 
before  I  left  London,  sixty  separate  occasions  on  which 
I  had  been  entertained,  and  at  almost  all  I  had  seen 
interesting  people.  We  left  London  last  Thursday 
morning. 

.  .  .  We  came  through  that  night  to  Chartres, 
which  Paine  had  never  •  seen,  and  the  next  night  to 
Bordeaux,  and  yesterday  here.  I  have  been  buying 
a  lot  of  books  in  London,  and  just  before  I  left,  Mac- 
millan kindly  undertook  to  have  them  packed  and  sent 
to  your  care.  There  will  be  one  or  two  big  boxes  of 
them.  Will  you  see  to  them  when  they  arrive,  and 
have  them  sent  to  my  house  ?     They  are  all  for  my 


310        A    YEAR    IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

owii  use,  mostly  theological  books,  and  ought  to  pass 
as  tools  of  trade.  Of  course,  if  they  must  pay  duty, 
you  will  pay  it  for  me.  They  have  been  bought  so 
miscellaneously  in  many  places,  one  here  and  another 
there,  that  I  cannot  say  just  what  they  have  cost,  but 
it  is  about  f  800  or  f  900.  You  must  do  what  you 
think  best  about  it,  and  I  hope  it  will  not  give  you  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  .  .  . 

Yours  affectionately,  P. 

BagkIcres  de  Luchon, 
Sunday,  July  29,  1883. 

Dear  William,  — ...  We  have  had  a  splendid 
Pyrenean  week.  Great  mountains  with  snowy  sides, 
beautiful  rich  valleys,  wild  ravines,  quaint  villages,  a 
handsome,  happy  people,  and  bright  skies,  —  anybody 
ought  to  look  back  with  pleasure  on  a  whole  week  of 
these.  It  is  not  exactly  like  any  other  country  which 
I  know.  Perhaps  it  is  more  like  some  parts  of  the 
Tyrol  than  anything  else.  It  reminds  me  at  times  of 
some  parts  of  the  road  up  the  valley  of  the  Inn,  which 
you  and  I  drove  up  together  once.  There  is  a  luxuri- 
ance about  these  valleys,  of  which  I  hardly  ever  saw 
the  like.  The  way  they  overrun  with  water  is  delicious. 
You  are  never  away  from  the  sound  of  a  brook  or 
a  waterfall.  Streams  run  by  the  side  of  every  road. 
There  are  fountains  in  every  man's  back  yard,  every 
bank  has  a  small  cascade  tumbling  over  it,  and  all  the 
rocks  look  as  if  Moses  had  been  about  here  with 
his  rod,  striking  out  right  and  left.  Last  night  the 
abundance  of  waters  culminated  in  a  drenching  rain, 
and  we  reached  here  in  the  midst  of  floods.  This 
morning  all  is  bright  as  Paradise.  It  is  a  garden  of 
a  place,  way  up  in  the  hills,  and  the  Frenchmen  have 


BAGNERES  DE  LUCHON.  311 

made  a  prett}^  summer  resort  of  it.  I  am  still  a  little 
lame,  and  am  lying  by  to  get  well.  The  week's  travel- 
ing has  not  given  me  much  chance  to  repair  my  leg, 
and  I  hope  my  conversation  has  been  better  than  my 
walk.  Taking  pity  on  my  imprisonment,  the  band 
came  this  morning  and  played  under  my  window,  and 
the  Frenchmen  and  Frenchwomen  strolled  up  and 
down,  and  the  sun  shone,  and  it  was  like  a  sort  of 
Class  Day  up  in  the  Pyrenees  on  Sunday.  It  is  as 
pretty  as  a  picture. 

There  was  a  great  deal  grander  place  which  we  saw 
the  other  day  at  Gavarnie,  where  a  wild  valley  pierces 
into  the  hills  until  it  brings  up  against  a  tremendous 
wall  of  rock  in  a  great  amphitheatre,  and  has  to  stop 
because  it  can  get  no  farther.  It  is  like  a  splendid 
end  of  the  world.  You  can  only  guess  what  lies  on 
the  other  side  of  the  rocks,  heaven  or  hell.  Really, 
it  is  Spain,  which  is  a  little  of  both.  Out  of  the  side 
of  the  high  wall  leaps  a  cascade,  1300  feet  high,  and 
tumbles  down  into  a  caldron  of  mist  and  foam.  It 
is  a  wonderful  place. 

Last  Wednesday  morning  we  were  at  Lourdes^  one  of 
the  strangest  places  in  the  world,  and  suggestive  of  all 
sorts  of  thoughts  and  questions.  It  was  here  that  al- 
most thirty  years  ago  a  little  girl  saw  the  Virgin  Mary 
standing  in  a  grotto,  and  a  spring  burst  out  which 
since  that  has  been  curing  hosts  of  sick  people,  who 
have  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Now  there  is 
a  gorgeous  church  there,  crowds  of  worshipers,  a  hun- 
dred thousand  pilgrims  yearly,  and  a  heap  of  disused 
crutches  and  camp  stools,  which  the  cured  have  left 
behind  them.  The  street  through  the  town  is  one 
long  market  of  crosses,  and  pictures,  and  rosaries,  and 
statuettes  of  Mary.     The  whole  was  wonderfully  like 


312         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

the  street  which  leads  down  to  the  Ganges  at  Benares, 
with  its  booths  full  of  brass  images  of  Vishnu,  Siva, 
Ganesha,  and  Kali. 

To-morrow  we  shall  be  off  to  Toulouse,  and  then  by 
the  Grande  Chartreuse  to  Geneva,  where  we  spend 
next  Sunday.  .  .  . 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  db  la  Paix,  Geneva, 

August  5,  1883. 

Dear  William.  —  Yesterday  I  received  your  let- 
ter of  July  23,  which  gave  me  the  greatest  anxiety 

about  poor  little  G .     It  is  very  hard  indeed  that 

she  should  have  had  a  relapse,  and  lost  something  of 
the  hard-won  ground.  I  hate  to  think  how  she  must 
have  suffered  this  long  winter  and  spring.  My  com- 
fort is,  that  the  news  is  two  weeks  old,  and  before 
this  she  must  be  in  Sharon,  which  is  to  be  the  foun- 
tain of  life  to  her.  If  I  believed  all  the  wonderful 
stories  of  what  it  does,  I  should  send  you  a  bottle  of 
the  miraculous  water  of  Lourdes,  and  we  would  be 
grateful  worshipers  of  the  Virgin  for  all  the  good  that 
it  might  do  the  dear  little  thing.  I  shall  not  do  that, 
but  I  shall  be  very  anxious  until,  next  Sunday  at 
Interlaken,  I  hear  of  your  reaching  Sharon  and  what 
are  the  results. 

Do  you  remember  this  hotel,  and  the  forenoon 
which  we  spent  at  Geneva  ?  It  is  as  bright  as  ever, 
and  the  lake  this  Sunday  morning  is  shining  like  a 
monstrous  jewel.  Do  you  remember  how  we  talked 
about  the  Grande  Chartreuse  and  the  possibility  of 
getting  there,  but  finally  concluded  that  it  was  too 
remote  and  took  the  train  for  Basle  and  Strasburg 
instead  ?     We  came  out  of  the  Pyrenees  by  Toulouse 


GENEVA.  313 

and  Nimes,  and  spent  last  Friday  night  up  at  the 
Grande  Chartreuse.  Arthur  and  Lizzie  went  there 
last  year.  Whether  they  spent  the  night  or  not  I  do 
not  know.  The  drive  up  to  the  wonderful  old  nest  of 
the  monks  is  very  fine.  Most  splendid  valleys,  at  first 
open  and  broad  and  bathed  in  sunshine,  and  then 
growing  narrower  and  wilder,  until  they  were  nothing 
but  woody  gorges ;  and  finally  opening  into  the  little 
plateau  on  which  the  monastery  buildings  stand  and 
seem  to  fill  the  whole  place  from  one  mountain  side 
to  the  other. 

There  are  about  forty  fathers  there,  Carthusians, 
in  their  picturesque  white  cloaks  and  cowls.  Solitude 
and  silence  is  their  rule.  They  spend  the  bulk  of.  the 
time  in  their  cells,  where  they  are  supposed  to  be  med- 
itating. I  suspect  that  the  old  gentlemen  go  to  sleep. 
There  was  a  strange,  ghostly  service,  which  began  at 
a  quarter  before  eleven  o'clock  at  night  and  lasted 
until  two  in  the  morning.  The  chapel  was  dim  and 
misty,  the  white  figures  came  gliding  in  and  sat  in  a 
long  row,  and  held  dark  lanterns  up  before  their  psal- 
ters and  chanted  away  at  their  psalms  like  a  long  row 
of  singing  mummies.  It  made  you  want  to  run  out  in 
the  yard  and  have  a  game  of  ball  to  break  the  spell. 
Instead  of  that,  after  watching  it  for  half  an  hour,  we 
crept  back  along  a  vast  corridor  to  the  cells  which 
had  been  allotted  us,  each  with  its  priedieu  and  its 
crucifix,  and  went  to  bed  in  the  hardest,  shortest, 
and  lumpiest  of  beds.  In  the  morning  a  good  deal  of 
the  romance  and  awfulness  was  gone,  but  it  was  very 
fine  and  interesting,  and  the  drive  down  into  the  valley 
on  the  other  side  at  Chambery  was  as  pretty  as  a  whole 
gallery  of  pictures.  Thence  we  came  by  rail,  and 
reached  here  Friday  night. 


314        A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

Yesterday  we  drove  out  to  Ferney  and  saw  where 
Voltaire  used  to  live  ;  looked  at  the  bed  in  which  he 
used  to  sleep  and  at  the  church  which  he  built.  It 
has  over  its  front  door  perhaps  the  strangest  of  all 
strange  inscriptions  which  men  have  carved  on 
churches,  — 

"Deo  Erexit  Voltaire." 

Here  we  fall  into  the  tide  of  travel  again,  and 
Americans  abound.  The  Suters  are  all  here.  I  shall 
preach  to  them  in  the  American  church  this  morning, 
and  I  shall  find  myself  looking  for  you  and  your 
family  two  pews  behind  them.  Richard  Weld  and 
his  wife  and  sons  are  also  here,  and  a  lot  of  other 
Americans  whom  I  never  saw,  but  feel  as  if  I  had 
seen  every  day  of  my  life.  .  .  .  Seven  weeks  from  to- 
day I  preach  in  Trinity.  .  .  . 

MtTRBEN,  August  12,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  I  went  to  church  this  morning 
in  a  little  thing  which  the  preacher  declared  to  be  the 
most  splendidly  situated  church  in  Christendom,  and 
I  rather  think  he  was  right.  Do  you  remember  when 
we  were  at  Interlaken  and  went  over  to  Grindelwald, 
how  after  it  stopped  raining  we  climbed  up  to  the 
Wengern-Alp  and  looked  the  Jungfrau  in  the  face  ? 
On  the  other  side  of  the  Lauterbrunnen  Valley,  into 
which  we  descended  that  day,  stands  the  great  hill  upon 
whose  top  is  Miirren.  We  came  here  yesterday  after- 
noon, and  such  a  Sunday  as  this  was  hardly  ever  seen. 
From  extreme  right  to  extreme  left  was  one  unbroken 
range  of  the  very  highest  of  snowy  peaks,  and  all  day 
they  have  been  superbly  clear.  I  remember  one  Sun- 
day, with  a  fellow  up  on  the  Gornergrat,  which  rauft 


MURREN.  315 

have  been  about  as  fine.  Finer  Sundays  than  those 
two,  nobody  ever  had  anywhere. 

There  are  a  multitude  of  English  and  German 
people  here,  but  so  far  as  I  have  learned,  R.  T.  Paine, 
Jr.,  and  I  are  the  only  Americans.  The  preacher 
this  morning  was  an  old  English  friend,  Dr.  Butler, 
the  master  of  Harrow  School,  and  he  is  the  only  person 
whom  I  ever  saw  before.  But  that  is  all  the  better, 
for  one  has  nothing  to  do  but  stare  at  the  hills.  I  saw 
the  first  sunlight  strike  them  at  half  past  four  this 
morning.  Besides  staring  at  them,  I  have  been  en- 
gaged to-day  in  reading  my  own  sermons.  Half  the 
proof  of  the  new  volume  reached  me  from  Macmillan 
yesterday,  and  I  have  read  the  interesting  discourses 
through  to-day.  I  hope  the  public  will  not  get  so 
tired  of  them  as  I  have. 

To-morrow  we  go  down  again  to  Interlaken,  then  to 
Lucerne,  over  that  Brunig  Pass  where  you  and  I  drove 
once  in  the  dust,  thence  through  the  new  St.  Gotthard 
tunnel  to  lake  Como,  and  then  a  journey  by  a  back 
road  through  northern  Italy,  coming  out  in  the  Dolo- 
mites and  working  back  to  Paris  by  Munich.  We 
shall  be  in  Paris  about  the  5th  of  September,  and  six 
weeks  from  to-day  I  preach  in  Trinity. 

.  .  .  Tell  G.  I  shall  expect  her  to  come  and  make 
me  a  visit  just  as  soon  as  the  old  house  gets  to  rights 
again.  I  will  feed  her  up  and  get  her  well,  show  her 
all  the  pretty  things  I  have  bought,  and  give  her  a  lot 
of  the  prettiest  for  her  ownty-donty.  How  I  wish  you 
were  all  here  this  afternoon,  with  John,  Arthur,  and 
their  families.  Perhaps  we  can  get  up  a  great  as- 
sembly at  Andover  next  summer.  I  am  hoping  for  a 
letter  from  you  to-morrow  at  Interlaken.  I  am  glad 
the  Andover  window  is  done  and  is  so  satisfactory.  I 
am  eager  to  see  it.     There  goes  an  avalanche.  .  .  . 


316         A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

MiJRREN,  Augiist  13,  1883. 

My  dear  Lizzie,  —  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  I 
owe  you  a  letter,  or  you  owe  me  one.  I  rather  think 
our  last  letters  crossed  upon  the  road,  and  that  always 
leaves  a  doubt.  I  imagine  that  a  good  many  corre- 
spondences have  died  that  way.  But  ours  shall  not. 
I  will  write  to  you  anyhow,  and  show  you  that  I  am 
not  mean.  You  have  been  at  Miirren,  have  n't  you  ? 
and  can  anything  be  finer  than  this  Eiger  and  Monch 
and  Grosshorn  and  Breithorn  and  Mittaghorn  ?  We 
have  spent  two  whole  days  up  here,  reading  novels  and 
staring  at  the  hills.  Each  morning  at  haK  past  four 
we  have  seen  the  first  sunlight  strike  the  peaks,  and 
all  day  the  sky  has  been  cloudless.  Now  we  are  going 
to  turn  our  backs  upon  it  and  walk  down  to  Lauter- 
brunnen.  Every  step  now  seems  a  step  homeward, 
for  six  weeks  from  yesterday  I  am  going  to  preach  in 
Trinity  again.  It  will  seem  strange  to  stand  at  that 
little  desk  once  more.  I  shall  crawl  back  before 
the  people  return  to  town,  and  when  they  come,  full 
of  the  recollections  of  the  splendors  of  last  winter, 
they  will  find  only  me.  But  I  shall  enjoy  it  if  they 
don't,  and  then  the  old  life  will  begin  again.  There 
will  be  some  changes,  but  it  is  good  to  know  that  I 
shall  find  you  and  Arthur  just  as  I  left  you,  only 
I  want  to  see  the  new  church  and  enjoy  it,  as  I  know 
I  shall.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  And  where  are  you?  Koaming  along  the 
shores  of  Grand  Menan,  or  reveling  like  Sybarites  in 
the  luxurious  life  of  "  up  the  river."  .  .  .  You  will 
come  on  to  the  General  Convention  and  look  at  us, 
while  we  are  sitting  in  the  great  assembly,  will  you 
not  ?  And  on  the  way  there  and  back,  I  shall  steal 
quiet  evenings  for  logomachy  and  talk  in  the  Madi- 


TRENTO.  317 

son  Avenue  hermitage.  How  nice  and  familiar  it  all 
sounds,  and  it  is  almost  here.  Will  you  not  meet  us 
in  Brussels,  where  we  parted,  and  we  will  peel  off 
sticky  photographs  for  an  evening,  and  then  come  home 
together.     My  love  to  Arthur. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

*  Trento,  Sunday,  August  19,  1883. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  I  bought  the  prettiest  thing  you 
ever  saw  for  you  the  other  day.  If  you  were  to  guess 
for  three  weeks,  making  two  guesses  every  minute,  you 
could  not  guess  what  it  is.  I  shall  not  tell  you, 
because  I  want  you  to  be  all  surprised  to  pieces  when 
you  see  it,  and  I  am  so  impatient  to  give  it  to  you 
that  I  can  hardly  wait.  Only  you  must  be  in  a  great 
hurry  and  get  well,  because  you  see  it  is  only  five 
weeks  from  to-day  that  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  in  the 
dear  old  study  in  Clarendon  Street,  where  we  have 
had  such  a  lot  of  good  times  together  before  now. 
Just  think  of  it !  We  '11  set  the  music  box  a-going, 
and  light  all  the  gaslights  in  the  house,  and  get  my 
doll  out  of  her  cupboard,  and  dress  Tood  up  in  a 
red  pocket  handkerchief  and  stand  her  up  on  the 
study  table,  and  make  her  give  three  cheers!  And 
we  '11  have  some  gingerbread  and  lemonade. 

I  've  got  a  lot  of  things  for  you  besides  the  one 
which  I  bought  for  you  the  other  day.  You  could  n't 
guess  what  it  is  if  you  were  to  guess  forever,  but  this 
is  the  best  of  all,  and  when  you  see  it  you  will  jump 
the  rheumatism  right  out  of  you.  I  hope  you  will  be 
quite  well  by  that  time.  What  sort  of  a  place  is 
Sharon  ?  Do  not  write  to  me  about  it,  but  tell  me  all 
about  it  when  I  see  you.  What  a  lot  you  will  have 
to  tell.      You  can  tell  me  what  was  in  that  Christ- 


318        A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE   AND  INDIA. 

mas  letter  which  the  wicked  mail-man  never  brought 
to  me. 

Good-by,  dear  little  girl.  Don't  you  wish  you  knew 
what  it  was  that  I  bought  for  you  the  other  day? 
Give  my  love  to  Agnes  and  Tood. 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Tbento,  August  19, 1883. 

Dear  Mary,  —  I  have  come  to  another  place  which 
seems  to  justify  a  letter  to  you.  Three  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  years  ago,  a  lot  of  clergymen  climbed  up 
here  into  the  mountains  and  held  the  Council  of  Trent, 
and  fixed  forever  the  Church  of  Rome.  Last  night 
Paine  and  I  arrived  here  in  the  train,  and  are  holding 
our  council  now  in  the  Hotel  de  Trento.  This  morn- 
ing we  went  to  the  old  church  in  which  the  Council 
sat,  and  there  we  listened  to  a  sermon  which  we  did 
not  understand,  looked  at  a  crowded  congregation  of 
people  (as  different  from  that  which  meets  in  Trinity 
as  anybody  can  imagine),  and  wondered  how  the  old 
church  looked  when  the  Bisho2:)s  and  Archbishops 
were  sitting  there  in  council  three  hundred  and 
twenty-eight  years  ago. 

Just  in  front  of  me  was  a  poor  old  weather-beaten 
lady,  who  went  fast  asleep  in  the  sermon  time  and 
woke  up  beautifully  refreshed  when  it  was  over.  I 
rather  think  the  sleep  did  her  more  good  than  the 
sermon  would  have  done,  for  she  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  overworked  ever  since  she  was  a  baby,  and  that 
was  long  ago.  On  the  walls  hung  a  picture  of  the 
Council,  and  after  service  we  went  off  to  the  other 
church,  where  is  the  crucifix  before  which  all  the 
Tridentine  Fathers,  when  their  long  work  was  over, 
said   their    prayers.      How    modern    it    makes    out 


INNSBRUCK.  319 

General  Convention  of  this  autumn  look,  and  yet  it  is 
the  modern  things  that  are  of  more  interest  to  us  than 
all  the  old  ones  ;  and  more  important  to  me  to-day, 
a  great  deal,  than  the  Council  of  Trent  is  poor  little 
G.'s  chamber  at  Sharon.  I  wonder  whether,  in  the 
two  weeks  since  she  went  there,  the  waters  have  done 
her  good.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  anxious  I  am,  or 
how,  getting  the  news  only  once  a  week,  I  wait  in 
suspense  to  hear  what  the  blue  envelopes  will  bring 
which  the  Barings  send  to  meet  us.  If  I  were  at 
home,  I  would  take  the  train  to  Sharon  and  see  what 
sort  of  a  nurse  I  should  make  for  the  dear  little  wo- 
man. At  least  I  could  know  how  it  fared  with  her, 
and  perhaps  you  would  not  mind  having  me  about, 
and  if  I  were  very  much  in  the  way  I  could  go  out 
and  smoke  my  cigar  behind  the  house.  But  it  is  not 
long  now.  Five  weeks  from  to-day  I  shall  be  in  the 
old  place  again.  I  will  not  think  of  anything  else 
than  that  then  you  will  be  back  from  Sharon,  with  G. 
vastly  better  for  it,  and  the  new  house  as  lively  as  a 
summer's  day.  And  then  what  a  winter  we  will  have. 
There  goes  the  church-bell  again !  They  are  going 
to  have  another  meeting  in  the  Council  church,  but  I 
shall  stay  at  home  and  write  my  letters.  To-morrow 
morning  a  carriage  will  start  with  us  for  a  three  days' 
drive  through  the  glorious  Dolomites,  and  next  Sunday 
I  shall  hear  at  Wildbad-Gastein  how  you  all  are.  .  .  . 

Tyboleb  Hof,  Innsbruck, 

August  26,  1883. 

Dear  William,  —  ...  We  ordered  letters  sent 
to  Bad  Gastein,  but  when  we  reached  Innsbruck  (you 
remember  Innsbruck)  we  found  there  was  to  be  to-day 
a  Passion  Play  at  Brixlegg,  a  little  village  only  an 


320        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

hour  from  here,  and  we  determined  to  stop  over.  We 
have  spent  the  whole  Sunday  there,  and  it  has  been  a 
wonderfully  interesting  day.  Thirteen  years  ago  I 
started  for  Ober-Ammergau,  and  the  Franco-Prussian 
war  stopped  the  play  before  I  reached  there.  This 
Brixlegg  play  is  Ober-Ammergau  on  a  small  scale  and 
in  rather  a  more  primitive  fashion.  The  whole  story 
of  Christ's  Passion,  from  the  Entry  into  Jerusalem  to 
the  Resurrection,  is  acted  by  the  peasants  in  the  most 
devout  fashion,  and  with  a  power  and  feeling  that  are 
very  wonderful.  It  occupies  about  five  hours,  with 
an  intermission  of  an  hour  and  a  haK  in  the  midst.  It 
is  given  in  a  rude  barn-like  building,  set  up  for  the 
purpose,  with  curious  quaint  scenery,  and  most  effec- 
tive tableaux.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  see  once,  for 
it  is  a  rare  remnant  of  what  was  common  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  furnishes  a  remarkable  study  of 
the  character  of  the  people  to  whom  such  a  thing  is 
a  possibility.   .  .  . 

I  will  tell  you  all  about  this  when  I  get  home,  if  you 
want  to  hear.  Innsbruck  looks  just  as  it  did  when 
you  and  I  drove  out  of  it  five  years  ago  on  the  way 
to  the  Stelvio.  The  big  moimtain  still  throws  its 
shadow  down  the  Theresien  Strasse,  and  the  wonderful 
bronze  people  stand  around  Maximilian's  tomb  in  the 
Hof  Kirche.  But  only  think.  The  railway  runs  all 
the  way  to  Imst,  and  the  steam  whistle  has  vulgarized 
the  lovely  valley.  Are  you  not  glad  we  went  there 
first  ?     Perhaps  it  has  improved  the  Imst  Hotel ! 

This  last  week  I  thought  of  you  at  the  first  sight  of 
the  Inn  Valley,  but  up  to  that  time  we  were  in  the 
Dolomites,  where  the  associations  were  rather  with 
Arthur,  who  traveled  there  with  me  in  the  early  days, 
before  you  and  I  were  fellow-travelers. 


INNSBRUCK,  321 

To-morrow  we  are  off  for  Bad  Gastein,  and  then 
come  Ischl,  Salzburg,  and  next  Sunday,  Munich ;  then, 
Paris  and  London.  Two  weeks  from  next  Wednes- 
day we  set  sail.  So  I  shall  send  you  only  one  more 
letter.  But  I  shall  hear  from  you,  and  I  will  thank 
you  ever  so  much  if  you  telegraph  me  just  one  word 
to  the  Cephalonia  at  Queenstown  upon  the  12th.  Four 
weeks  from  tonight,  perhaps  we  shall  be  smoking  to- 
gether in  the  rectory.  .  .  . 

Innsbruck,  August  26,  1883. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  How  I  envy  the  little  Tyrolese 
girls  their  health  and  strength  to-day !  I  wanted  to  steal 
half  of  it,  and  send  it  home  in  a  box  to  you.  They 
never  would  have  missed  it,  for  they  have  a  great  deal 
more  health  than  they  know  what  to  do  with.  Their 
cheeks  are  as  red  as  the  sunset,  and  they  look  as  if 
they  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  rheumatism !  But 
never  mind,  I  am  coming  home  soon  now,  and  you 
will  forget  all  about  this  ugly  winter. 

I  have  been  seeing  the  people  in  a  little  village  to- 
day act  a  part  of  the  New  Testament  story.  A  lot  of 
the  children  took  part  in  it,  and  I  send  you  a  photo- 
graph of  one  of  them,  a  little  girl  who  walked  in  the 
procession  which  came  with  Jesus  into  Jerusalem  on 
Palm  Sunday.  She  was  a  cunning  little  thing,  and 
carried  her  palm  branch  as  you  see,  and  cried,  "  Ho- 
sanna !  "  as  she  walked  along.  I  wish  you  had  been 
there  to  see  her. 

Was  it  not  funny  that  I  should  hear  about  you  on 
the  street  at  Innsbruck  ?  You  see  how  famous  you  are 
and  how  people  know  about  you  all  over  the  world. 
The  person  who  knew  about  you  here  was  Miss  Wales, 
who  came  out  of  a  shop  last  Friday  afternoon  just  as 


322        A    YEAR  IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

we  were  going  in.  She  looked  just  like  a  slice  out  of 
old  Boston,  and  she  had  some  letters  from  home  about 
your  visit  to  Sharon,  or  perhaps  she  saw  it  in  the 
papers ! 

I  wonder  if  you  will  be  back  when  I  get  home,  and 
I  wonder  if  you  will  be  glad  to  see  me !  I  got  you  an- 
other present  the  other  day,  but  you  could  n't  guess 
what  that  is  either.  Good-by !  Get  well !  And  give 
my  love  to  Agnes  and  Tood.  I  think  of  you  a  great 
deal.     Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Munich,  September  2,  1883. 

Dear  Gertie  —  When  I  came  away,  the  first  man 
that  wrote  me  a  letter  only  two  days  after  the  Servia 
had  steamed  out  of  New  York  Bay  was  you.  And  now 
that  I  am  coming  home,  the  last  letter  which  I  write 
from  the  Old  World  to  any  man  in  America  shall  be 
to  you.  For  I  want  to  tell  you  myself  that  I  shall  see 
you  on  September  22.  I  suppose  you  will  not  be  quite 
able  to  run  over  to  the  wharf  at  East  Boston  when 
the  Cephalonia  gets  in,  but  I  shall  come  up  to  see 
you  just  as  soon  as  the  custom  house  people  let  me  out 
of  prison,  after  I  have  paid  the  duties  upon  all  the 
heaps  of  presents  I  have  got  for  you ! 

Was  n't  it  good  that  the  baths  at  Sharon  helped  you 
so  much  ?  I  was  at  a  place  the  other  day  where  the 
people  take  baths  for  rheumatism.  It  is  called  Bad 
Gastein,  but  it  is  n't  bad  at  all ;  it  is  very  good.  It  is 
away  back  in  the  hills,  and  there 's  a  tremendous  water- 
fall which  runs  right  through  the  house,  and  keeps  up 
such  a  racket  that  you  can't  get  any  sleep.  But  that 
does  no  great  harm,  because  you  have  to  take  your 
bath  so  early  that,  if  it  were  not  for  the  waterfall  in 
the  next  room,  you  would  sleep  over  and  never  get 


MUNICH.  323 

your  bath  at  all,  and  so  some  time  you  might  have  the 
rheumatism  all  your  life.  I  didn't  have  any  rheu- 
matism, so  I  went  and  took  a  bath  for  yours,  and  I 
rather  think  that  is  what  made  you  feel  so  much 
better.  You  thought  it  was  the  baths  you  were  tak- 
ing at  Sharon,  but  it  was  really  the  bath  I  was  taking 
at  Bad  Gastein ! 

I  wonder  how  soon  you  will  come  and  see  me  when 
I  get  back.  Everybody  here  eats  his  breakfast,  and 
luncheon,  and  dinner  outdoors.  I  like  it,  and  think 
I  shall  do  so  myself  when  I  get  home  ;  so  when  you 
come  to  breakfast,  we  will  have  our  table  out  on  the 
grass  plot  in  Newbury  Street,  and  Katie  shall  bring 
us  our  beefsteak  there.  Will  it  not  make  the  children 
stare  as  they  go  by  to  school  ?  We  '11  toss  the  crumbs 
to  them  and  the  robins.  But  you  must  hurry  and  get 
well,  or  we  cannot  do  all  this.  My  love  to  Agnes  and 
Tood.     Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Hotel  Baierischeb  Hof,  Munich, 
September  2,  1883. 

Dear  William,  — ...  This  last  day  of  home  writ- 
ing makes  me  feel  queer.  I  wonder  whether  it  is  really 
true  that  three  weeks  from  to-day  I  am  to  preach  in 
Trinity.  I  wonder  whether  I  shall  really  look  so  old 
and  thin  that  people  will  not  know  me.  I  wonder 
whether  those  heathen  are  still  chattering  and  chaffer- 
ing in  the  Chandni-Chauk  at  Delhi.  I  wonder  whether 
I  have  really  got  enough  benefit  out  of  all  this  pleas- 
ant year  to  make  it  worth  while  to  have  come.  This 
last  wonder  is  the  hardest  of  all.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  have,  and  then  again  I  do  not  know.  At  any  rate  I 
shall  try,  and  if  I  find  when  I  begin  to  preach  that 
I  am  really  q,s  idiotic  as  I  sometimes  seem  to  myself, 


324         A    YEAR   IN  EUROPE  AND  INDIA. 

there  are  several  little  hidden  nooks  in  Europe  which 
I  know,  where  I  can  go  and  hide  my  disgrace,  and 
nobody  will  hear  of  me  any  more  forever.  But  per- 
haps it  will  not  come  to  that.  .   .  . 

Why  cannot  you  make  use  of  my  house  this  autumn, 
until  your  own  is  thoroughly  dry  and  safe  ?  Pray  do 
not  think  of  going  into  it.  You  must  not  let  G.  run 
the  slightest  danger  of  a  relapse.  Nothing  would  give 
me  greater  pleasure  than  to  find  you  all  in  Clarendon 
Street.  On  my  return,  on  the  2d  of  October,  I  go 
to  Philadelphia ;  shall  practically  be  absent  all  that 
month,  and  you  can  have  free  swing.  So  pray  do  go 
there,  and  please  me. 

You  remember  this  hotel  and  the  bright,  pretty 
city.  .  .  .  But  what 's  the  use  of  writing,  when  I  shall 
be  at  home  a  week  after  you  get  this.  My  last  letter. 
Hurrah !  Hurrah !  My  final  love ;  I  am  coming 
home. 

Affectionately,  P. 


ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

1885. 

Steamship  Etrukia,  May  15,  1885. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  This  letter  will  show  you  that 
I  have  got  safely  over  to  Queenstown.  The  people 
are  just  finishing  their  breakfasts  in  the  cabin,  that  is, 
the  lazy  ones  who  have  come  up  late  from  their  state- 
rooms. 

I  had  my  breakfast  two  hours  ago,  and  have  been 
walking  up  and  down  the  deck  since  then.  There  are 
a  lot  of  people  up  there,  among  them  a  good  many 
children.  Some  very  nice-looking  boys  !  Everybody 
seems  to  have  had  a  pleasant  voyage.  There  has  been 
no  storm,  and  most  of  the  time  the  water  has  been  as 
quiet  as  a  bath  tub.  On  Sunday  it  was  a  little  rough. 
The  Doctor  read  service,  and  we  had  no  sermon,  be- 
cause the  people  wanted  to  get  on  deck  again. 

I  received  the  letter  which  you  all  wrote  to  me.  I 
found  it  on  the  table  in  the  cabin,  just  after  the 
steamer  sailed.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  write,  and 
it  made  a  very  pleasant  last  good-by,  after  uncle 
Arthur  had  left  me  on  deck,  and  I  thought  I  should 
not  see  or  hear  from  anybody  I  knew,  at  least  for  a 
whole  week. 

...  I  wish  you  were  here !  We  would  go  to  walk 
on  the  deck  and  see  the  people  play  shuffleboard,  then 
we  would  find  a  quiet  place  behind  the  smokestack 
and  sit  down  and  smoke.     I  suppose  you  are  getting 


326  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

ready  to  go  up  to  North  Andover.  Do  take  good  care 
of  "  Tom,"  and  do  not  let  the  pony  bully  him.  .  .  . 
When  you  get  this,  think  of  me  in  London  having  a 
beautiful  time  .  .  .  Ever  and  ever 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Westminster  PAiiACE  Hotel,  London, 

May  21,  1885. 

Dear  William,  —  Here  it  is,  begun  all  over  again 
in  the  old  fashion.  The  old  hotel,  the  same  dingy 
outlook  from  the  windows,  and  the  same  chimes  from 
the  Abbey  bells  every  quarter  of  an  hour !  We 
reached  here  yesterday  afternoon  at  the  end  of  our 
fourth  day  on  shore.  The  voyage  was  very  swift, 
pleasant,  and  uneventful.  The  Etruria  is  a  superb 
ship,  rather  inclined  to  roll,  when  there  seems  to  be  no 
reason  for  it,  but  going  through  the  water  at  a  tre- 
mendous rate.  .  .  .  The  only  celebrity  on  board  was 
Mr.  Froude,  who  kept  very  much  to  his  stateroom  and 
was  hardly  seen.  I  am  afraid  the  great  historian  was 
ill.  We  landed  on  Sunday  morning  at  Liverpool,  and 
I  went  to  church,  and  saw  and  heard  Bishop  Ryle. 
Monday  we  spent  in  Chester,  and  went  out  to  the 
Duke  of  Westminster's  place,  Eaton  Hall,  and  also 
to  Mr.  Gladstone's  Hawarden  Castle.  Neither  of  the 
great  men  was  at  home,  but  we  looked  at  their  houses. 
.  .  .  Then  we  came  on  to  Leamington,  and  saw  War- 
wick Castle,  Kenilworth,  and  Stratford-on-Avon,  and 
then  here. 

I  saw  Archdeacon  Farrar  yesterday  afternoon,  and 
found  him  well.  I  am  to  dine  with  him  on  Saturday 
to  meet  Browning  and  Lowell  and  Arnold,  and  the 
new  Bishop  of  London,  Dr.  Temple.  I  saw  my  god- 
son, who  is  staying  with  his  grandfather,  in  the  absence 


LONDON.  327 

of  his  parents  from  London  for  a  few  days.     He  is  a 
round,  fat,  English  baby. 


Friday  Morning,  May  22. 

Yesterday  was  a  busy  London  day,  and  I  did  not 
finish  my  letter.  Now  it  shall  go  to  tell  you  that  I 
am  well  and  happy.  Think  of  me  on  the  31st  of  May 
at  Oxford;  on  the  7th  of  June  at  Harrow  in  the 
morning,  and  in  Westminster  Abbey  in  the  evening ; 
on  the  14th  of  June  at  Cambridge.  I  will  think 
of  you  all  getting  ready  for  North  Andover,  and 
by  and  by  going  there,  and  having,  I  hope,  a  lovely 
summer.  Already  I  am  beginning  to  think  how  good 
next  summer  will  be  when  we  are  all  there  together, 
and  "  Tom  "  has  grown  to  his  maturity,  and  the  old 
place  has  really  come  to  look  and  feel  as  if  it  had  be- 
gun a  new  life  for  our  generation.  .  .  . 

I  have  not  heard  from  you  yet,  though  I  got  two 
letters  forwarded  by  you  and  mailed  the  day  we  sailed. 
Not  a  bit  of  excitement  here,  apparently,  about  war  or 
cholera,  but  both  subjects  quietly  and  very  seriously 
talked  about.  Good-by,  and  my  best  love  to  all  of 
you.     May  you  be  kept  safe  and  happy. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Westmtnstbr  Palace  Hotel,  London, 

May  29,  1885. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  I  received  your  note  and  Toodie's 
early  this  week,  and  to-night  comes  your  father's  to 
tell  me  that  you  were  thinking  of  me  as  late  as  the 
15th  of  May.  I  believe  you  are  thinking  of  me  still. 
Certainly  I  am  thinking  of  you,  and  hoping  you  are 
aU  well  and  doing  all  sorts  of  delightful  things.     It 


328  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

does  not  seem  as  if  it  could  be  only  three  weeks  this 
morning  that  I  said  good-by  to  you  and  took  the  train 
for  New  York.  But  it  is,  and  I  have  been  in  Lon- 
don now  more  than  a  week.  What  have  I  done? 
Let  me  see.  Last  Sunday  morning  I  preached  at  St. 
Margaret's  in  the  forenoon ;  in  the  afternoon  went  to 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  and  heard  Canon  Scott  HoUand. 
.  .  .  Monday  we  went  to  Windsor  Castle,  but  it  was 
rainy,  and  besides  that  it  was  "  Bank  Holiday,"  so 
there  was  a  tremendous  crowd,  and  we  did  not  see 
very  much.  Tuesday  I  went  down  to  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester's  and  spent  the  night,  and  it  was  very  pleas- 
ant. He  has  a  great  big  house  and  park,  and  every- 
thing very  complete  and  pretty.  It  was  a  lovely  day, 
the  hawthorns  were  just  blooming,  and  the  grass  and 
old  trees  were  lovely.  .  .  . 

On  Wednesday  I  went  to  a  big  dinner-party,  and  I 
had  a  very  good  time.  Thursday  I  went  down  to  the 
country  and  spent  the  day  with  some  nice  people  who 
live  in  an  old  manor  house,  in  a  place  called  Chig- 
well.  There  is  a  school-house  there  where  William 
Penn  used  to  go  to  school,  before  he  founded  Penn- 
sylvania, and  there  are  many  other  interesting  things. 
To-day  we  have  had  a  long  drive  to  Hampton  Court, 
Richmond,  and  Kew,  and  seen  no  end  of  queer  and 
delightful  sights ;  and  now  to-night  I  am  writing  to 
you,  so  you  see  I  am  very  busy.  To-morrow  I  go  to 
Oxford,  where  I  spend  three  days,  seeing  the  univer- 
sity and  looking  at  all  the  great  men.  It  has  been 
cold  and  bleak,  but  now  the  weather  is  getting  bright 
and  warm,  and  the  country  is  prettier  than  anything 
you  ever  saw,  except  North  Andover. 

I  have  not  seen  Nora  Buchanan,  but  I  saw  her  mo- 
ther, the  other  day.     Nora  had  gone  to  school,  and 


LONDON.  329 

was  very  well.  I  wonder  when  you  are  going  to 
North  Andover.  You  must  tell  me  when  you  write 
again,  so  that  I  can  think  of  your  getting  settled  and 
feel  what  a  good  time  you  are  having.  Remember 
that  the  corn-barn  belongs  to  you,  and  you  must  be 
the  mistress  there.  But  do  let  S.  and  A.  come  in 
when  they  want  to.  Give  them  my  love,  and  also  to 
your  father  and  mother.  Do  not  forget  that  I  am 
Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

London,  June  5,  1885. 

Dear  William,  —  ...  Saturday  I  went  to  Ox- 
ford and  stayed  at  the  Yice-Chancellor's,  Dr.  Jow- 
ett's.  Other  people  were  staying  there,  and  it  was 
very  bright  and  pleasant.  On  Sunday  afternoon  I 
preached  the  university  sermon  in  St.  Mary's  Church. 
.  .  .  The  service  was  at  two  o'clock,  an  hour  when  I 
think  nobody  ever  went  to  church  before.  Four  men 
came  to  the  Yice-Chancellor's  house,  and  Dr.  Jowett 
and  I  fell  in  behind  them,  and  they  escorted  us  along 
the  street  as  far  as  the  church.  When  we  reached  the 
church,  another  man  took  us  in  charge  and  brought  us 
to  the  foot  of  the  pulpit  stairs,  where  the  Yice-Chan- 
cellor  and  I  solemnly  bowed  to  one  another,  and  he 
went  up  into  his  throne  and  I  went  up  into  the  pulpit. 
Then  I  preached.  ...  I  spent  the  next  two  days  in 
Oxford,  and  had  a  lovely  time,  going  to  all  sorts  of 
meetings,  dining  with  the  dons,  seeing  the  men  I 
wanted  most  to  see,  being  rowed  on  the  river,  and  all 
that.  The  weather  was  lovely ;  you  cannot  think  how 
beautiful  the  place  looked.   .  .  . 

Your  brother,  P. 


330  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
June  12,  1885. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  ...  I  have  been  running  up 
and  down  this  big  world  of  London  and  seeing  a  lot 
of  people,  and  every  now  and  then  going  off  into  the 
country,  which  is  wonderfully  pretty  now,  with  haw- 
thorn and  lilacs  and  laburnums  all  in  bloom. 

Last  Sunday  I  went  out  to  Harrow,  where  there  is 
a  great  school,  and  there  I  preached  to  five  hundred 
boys.  How  A.  would  like  to  go  there,  would  n't  she  ? 
In  the  afternoon  I  came  back  into  town,  and  preached 
in  Westminster  Abbey  to  a  host  of  people.  The 
great  place  looked  splendid,  and  it  was  fine  to  preach 
there.  Yesterday  I  went  twenty  miles  into  the  coun- 
try, and  preached  at  an  ordination  of  forty  new  min- 
isters. The  fields  were  bright  with  daisies,  and  I  won- 
dered how  North  Andover  was  looking.  You  must 
be  just  packing  up  to  go  there  now.  Even  with  all 
the  beauty  of  England,  it  makes  me  quite  homesick 
when  I  think  about  it.  You  must  tell  me  all  about 
the  removal  there,  and  how  you  get  settled,  and  how 
your  corn-barn  looks,  and  what  new  things  you  find 
to  do  in  the  old  place ;  and  you  must  have  it  all  ready 
for  me  on  September  12,  when  I  mean  to  come  up 
early  in  the  morning  and  spend  the  whole  solid  week 
quietly  there.  That  will  be  just  three  months  from 
to-day.  .  .  . 

I  go  to  Cambridge  for  next  Sunday,  and  then  to 
Oxford  for  Commemoration  and  my  degree.  Good- 
by ;  my  best  of  love  to  all  and  you. 

Affectionately,  Uncle  P. 


LONDON.  331 

Westminster  Palace  HoTEii,  London, 
June  18,  1885. 

My  dear  Tood,  —  You  certainly  deserve  a  letter, 
for  your  letters  to  me  have  been  delightful  and  have 
made  me  very  happy.  I  am  sorry  you  have  given  up 
the  poetry,  because  it  was  very  interesting  and  amus- 
ing. Perhaps  now  that  the  strain  of  school  is  over, 
and  you  are  among  the  sweet  sights  and  sounds  and 
smells  of  North  Andover,  you  will  drop  into  verse 
again.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  you  sing  once  more. 
Write  me  a  poem  about  "  Tom." 

I  am  having  a  beautiful  time,  and  I  wish  you  all  were 
here.  If  you  were,  I  would  get  a  big  carriage  this 
morning,  and  we  would  all  go  driving  about  London 
and  out  into  Hyde  Park,  and  perhaps  far  away  into 
the  country.  We  would  see  the  rhododendrons,  which 
are  in  full  bloom  now,  and  we  would  wish  that  the 
grass  on  the  lawn  in  North  Andover  could  be  made 
to  look  haK  as  soft  and  green  as  the  grass  on  these 
beautiful  English  fields. 

I  have  just  come  back  from  Oxford.  You  should 
have  seen  me  yesterday  walking  about  the  streets  in 
my  Doctor's  gown.  It  was  a  red  gown  with  black 
sleeves,  and  is  awfully  pretty.  It  was  only  hired  for 
the  occasion,  for  it  costs  ever  so  much  money,  and  I 
did  not  care  to  buy  one.  So  you  will  never  see  how 
splendid  I  looked  in  it,  for  I  shall  never  have  it  on 
again.  .  .  . 

Affectionately  your  Uncle  P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
June  19,  1885. 

Dear  William,  —  I  hope  you  are  well  and  happy, 
and  I  wish  very  much  that  I  could  see  you  all  to-day. 


332  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

You  must  be  safe  at  Andover  long  before  this,  and  1 
know  how  pretty  it  must  be  looking.  I  shall  get  a 
bit  of  it  at  the  end  of  the  season.  It  seems  to  be 
settled  now  that  Archdeacon  Farrar  and  his  two 
friends  will  come  with  me  on  the  Pavonia,  September 
2.  I  hope  we  shall  arrive  in  Boston  on  Saturday,  the 
12th.  Then  we  shall  spend  Sunday  in  Boston  at  the 
Brunswick.  Monday  I  shall  go  with  them  as  far  as 
the  White  Mountains  on  their  way  to  Canada,  and 
then  about  Wednesday  come  back  on  the  Boston  & 
Maine  Railroad  to  Andover.  How  I  wish  you  could 
put  off  your  vacation  till  then,  and  go  with  us  to  the 
mountains,  and  have  a  leisure  week  at  Andover  after 
our  return.  Think  of  it  and  try  and  do  so.  Tell 
M.  how  delightful  it  wiU  be  if  she  can  join  us  for 
the  mountains.  We  need  stay  there  but  a  day  or  two, 
visiting  merely  Crawford's  and  the  Glen. 

I  have  had  a  busy  and  delightful  week.  Saturday 
afternoon  I  went  to  Cambridge,  getting  there  just  in 
time  for  the  boat  races,  which  were  very  picturesque 
and  pretty.  After  that  came  a  supper  at  Professor 
Jebb's,  with  lots  of  dons  and  professors.  Sunday  I 
spent  at  the  Vice-Chancellor's,  Dr.  Ferrers'  at  the 
Lodge  in  Caius  College.  At  two  o'clock  I  preached  the 
university  sermon  in  Great  St.  Mary's  to  a  big  and 
imposing  congregation.  It  was  the  Tolerance  lecture 
which  you  heard  in  Cambridge,  and  it  went  off  very 
well.  Monday  I  roamed  about  among  the  beautiful 
colleges,  lunched  with  an  undergraduate,  who  had  a 
pleasant  party,  and  went  to  a  big  dinner  party  at  the 
Jebbs'.  Tuesday  morning  I  went  to  Oxford,  a  slow 
four  hours'  ride,  took  lunch  at  Dr.  Jowett's  with  some 
great  university  folks,  and  then  went  to  the  public 
theatre,  where  we  had  our  D.  D.  degrees  conferred  on 


LONDON.  333 

us  with  queer  ceremonies.  I  send  you  some  papers 
which  tell  about  it.  The  next  day,  Wednesday,  was 
the  great  Commemoration  Day,  with  the  conferring  of 
the  D.  C.  L.  degrees,  and  a  college  luncheon  and  a 
brilliant  garden  party  in  the  afternoon.  Then  I  came 
back  to  London,  and  last  night  went  to  a  dinner 
given  in  honor  of  the  Precentor  of  the  Abbey.  To- 
night I  dine  with  Mr.  Bryce,  whom  you  remember  at 
our  Matthew  Arnold  dinner  of  last  winter.  So  it  goes 
all  the  time  ;  but  after  two  weeks  more  it  will  be  over. 
On  the  3d  of  July  we  go  on  to  the  Continent,  and 
life  will  be  quieter,  or  at  least  it  will  have  a  differ- 
ent sort  of  bustle. 

...  I  have  not  been  anywhere,  except  in  London 
and  at  the  universities,  during  all  this  visit.  The 
papers  tell  us  it  is  very  hot  with  you.  Here  it  is  cool 
and  pleasant.  The  crisis  and  change  of  government 
of  course  keeps  everything  excited.  Gladstone  goes 
out  with  honor,  having  saved  the  world  a  war.  My 
kind  love  to  all. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Westminstbb  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
June  25,  1885. 

Dear  Mary,  — ...  I  love  to  think  of  you  all  at 
North  Andover,  and  to  look  forward  to  the  time  when 
I  shall  be  with  you.  The  plan  of  which  I  wrote  last 
week  has  fallen  through.  Archdeacon  Farrar  and  his 
friends  have  made  up  their  minds  that  they  must  sail 
direct  for  Canada,  and  so  I  shall  come  alone  in  the 
Pavonia,  and  the  White  Mountain  trip  will  not  take 
place.  I  shall  come  to  North  Andover  on  Monday 
morning,  the  14th  of  September,  and  stay  there 
quietly  as  long  as  I  can.  Archdeacon  Farrar's  party 
wiU  not  reach  Boston  until  the  fii'st  of  November. 


334  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

Everything  here  has  been  delightful.  People  have 
been  very  kind,  and  invitations  flow  in  in  far  greater 
numb(3rs  tiian  I  can  accept.  It  has  been  very  interest- 
ing to  be  here  during  the  political  crisis  and  see  the 
English  people  change  their  government.  Right  in 
the  thick  of  it  I  met  Mr.  Gladstone  at  dinner  at  Mr. 
Bryce's,  and  he  was  full  of  spirits  and  as  merry  as  a 
boy.  Our  new  minister,  Mr.  Phelps,  was  there,  and 
Senator  Edmunds,  and  it  was  very  interesting  to  see 
the  English  and  American  statesmen  meet. 

I  was  invited  by  Lord  Aberdeen  to  go  to  his  country 
place  and  spend  Sunday  with  Mr.  Gladstone,  but  I 
had  promised  to  preach  here  and  coidd  not  go.  I  was 
very  sorry,  for  it  would  have  been  a  capital  chance 
to  see  the  great  man  familiarly. 

I  am  just  back  from  Lincoln,  where  I  have  spent 
the  day  and  preached  this  afternoon  in  the  magnificent 
cathedral.  On  Saturday  I  go  to  Salisbury  to  stay 
with  the  Dean,  and  preach  in  that  cathedral  on  Sunday. 
Monday  I  come  back  to  town,  and  dine  on  Tuesday 
with  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  at  Lambeth  Pal- 
ace. Wednesday  I  start  off  to  meet  the  Paines, 
who  have  been  absent  for  two  weeks  in  Scotland,  and 
we  shall  travel  together  somewhere  for  a  week ;  then 
back  to  London  and  off  together  to  the  Continent, 
about  the  time  you  get  this  note. 

We  have  had  hardly  any  heat,  and  to-day  is  as  cold 
as  March,  but  the  country  is  looking  glorious,  and 
the  town  is  as  gay  as  Marlborough  Street  in  February. 

What  are  you  all  doing  ?  And  how  does  the  old  house 
look  with  its  green  grass  and  yellow  hitching-post  ? 
Is  Tom  still  alive  after  his  hard  winter's  experience? 
How  I  wish  I  could  look  in  on  you  to-night.  It  is 
most  midnight  here,  but  you  are  just  about  fmishing 


riNTERN.  335 

supper  and  sitting  down  to  logomachy.  I  have  not 
seen  the  blessed  game  since  we  played  it  in  Clarendon 
Street  the  night  before  I  left.  You  must  thank 
Agnes  and  Susie  for  their  last  letters.  The  New 
York  trip  must  have  been  a  great  event.  Yesterday  I 
thought  about  Commencement  and  wished  I  was  there. 
I  hope  Arthur  was  with  you.     Good-night.  .  .  . 

Ever  and  ever  affectionately,  P. 

TmTERN,  July  2,  1885. 

Dear  William,  —  A  happy  new  year  to  you,  and 
a  gTcat  many  more  of  them  for  years  to  come.  You 
have  had  a  good  time  for  the  last  fifty-one  years,  and 
I  am  sure  you  have  helped  other  people  (such  as  I) 
to  have  a  great  many  good  times  all  along.  Now  you 
are  just  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  ever  so  many  happy 
years  before  you,  and  I  congratulate  you  on  both  past 
and  future,  and  send  you  the  heartiest,  happy  new 
year  across  the  water. 

One  week  more  is  gone,  and  now  that  I  have  heard 
from  you  at  North  Andover,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  really 
got  hold  of  your  summer.  The  children's  letters  from 
there  made  it  seem  very  real  and  near.  .  .  .  The  pony 
seems  to  be  a  principal  character  in  the  household, 
and  I  am  rejoiced  that  Tom  has  recovered  from  the 
trials  and  humiliations  of  the  winter. 

...  I  spent  last  Sunday  at  Salisbury,  where  I  had 
a  delightful  day  and  preached  in  the  cathedral,  which 
is  now  thoroughly  restored,  and  looks  a  great  deal  bet- 
ter than  it  did  when  you  and  I  saw  it  filled  with 
scaffolding.  I  stayed  with  the  Dean,  and  saw  some 
very  pleasant  people.  Then  I  came  back  to  London, 
and  had  two  more  days  there,  and  on  Wednesday 
came  off  for  this  little  western  tour.      When  you  get 


336  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

this  the  Channel  will  have  been  crossed  and  the  jabber 
of  foreign  tongues  will  be  about  us.  The  weather  is 
delightful  and  all  goes  charmingly.  .  .  . 

Bonn,  July  11, 1885. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  It  is  a  very  lovely  morning  on 
the  Rhine.  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  be  hot  by  and  by, 
when  the  steamboat  comes  along  and  we  start  to  go  up 
the  river  ;  but  at  present,  before  breakfast,  it  is  very 
lovely.  There  is  a  pretty  village  with  trees  and  a 
church  tower  just  across  the  river,  and  the  little  boats 
keep  coming  and  going,  and  the  children  on  the  bank, 
in  front  of  the  hotel,  are  playing  like  kittens,  and 
everything  is  as  bright  and  sunshiny  as  if  there  was  n't 
such  a  thing  as  trouble  in  the  world.  Speaking  of 
kittens,  I  wonder  if  you  have  found  the  little  thing 
that  used  to  hide  away  in  the  barn,  and  that  the  boy 
could  n't  catch  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  But  perhaps 
she  has  grown  to  be  a  big  cat,  and  is  n't  worth  the 
catching  now,  which  is  the  way  with  a  good  many 
people.  When  you  want  them  you  cannot  get  them, 
and  when  you  get  them  you  don't  want  them. 

A  man  has  just  come  and  set  up  a  stand  in  the 
square  under  my  window  to  sell  cherries,  and  the 
children  are  looking  at  them  hard,  and  no  doubt  wish- 
ing that  they  had  two  cents.  I  would  give  them  two 
dollars  apiece  all  around  if  I  could  talk  German  as 
well  as  they  can.  And  so  we  all  want  something  which 
we  have  not  got.  I  wonder  what  you  want.  If  it  's 
anything  in  Europe,  write  a  letter  and  tell  me  the 
name  of  it  instantly,  and  I  will  get  it  for  you.  .  .  . 

We  left  London  on  Thursday  morning,  and  I  shali 
not  see  it  again  till  the  1st  of  August,  when  I  shall  go 
there  to  get  my  playthings  together  before  I  sail  in 


SALZBURG.  337 

the  Pavonia  on  the  3d.  I  have  had  a  very  beautiful 
time  there,  but  now  I  am  glad  to  be  traveling  again 
and  on  my  way  to  the  great  mountains.  I  wish  you 
were  with  me  and  were  here  this  morning.  I  would 
give  you  some  cherries. 

I  long  to  see  the  pony.  Next  year  I  think  we  must 
have  one  of  our  own,  or  would  you  like  a  donkey  bet- 
ter, for  which  G.  B.  advertised?  We  must  consult 
Tood  about  it.  My  best  of  love  to  you  all  and  to 
"Tom."     Goodby.     Your  uncle,  P. 

Salzburg,  July  15,  1885. 

Dear  William,  —  When  I  reached  here  yester- 
day, I  found  a  group  of  delightful  letters  from  North 
Andover,  which  had  the  flavor  of  the  old  place  about 
them.  I  think  about  you  now  as  settled  there,  with 
the  Jack-o'-lanterns  burning  on  the  garden  wall.  .  .  . 

I  have  left  England  after  a  most  delightful  visit. 
It  was  full  of  interesting  occurrences,  and  I  shall  look 
back  upon  it  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  Now  we  are 
on  our  way  southward,  and  after  a  drive  through  the 
Tyrol,  we  shall  probably  bring  up  for  a  few  days  in 
Venice ;  then  back  to  Switzerland,  where  we  shall 
have  about  three  weeks.  Seven  weeks  from  this  after- 
noon I  shall  be  afloat,  headed  for  Queenstown  and 
Boston.  All  goes  beautifully.  The  weather  is  delight- 
ful, and  the  scenery,  pictures,  and  cathedrals  are  the 
same  splendid  things  that  they  have  been  for  the  last 
twenty  years  and  many  years  before.  TeU  G.  to  keep 
as  right  as  she  can  till  the  11th  of  September,  and 
after  that  I  will  look  after  her;  and  thank  S.  for 
her  account  of  the  corn-barn  banquet,  which  made  my 
mouth  water  very  miich  indeed. 

.  .  .  The  programme  for  the  Church  Congress  in  the 


338  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

autumn,  which  you  inclosed  in  your  letter,  really 
made  one  believe  that  there  was  to  be  a  new  campaign 
begun  by  and  by,  but  it  seems  very  far  off  now. 
Still,  I  think  we  wiU  not  carry  out  our  little  plan  of 
retiring  from  active  life  this  autumn.  Let  us  wait 
another  year.  .  .  . 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  Danieli,  Venice, 
July  24,  1885. 

My  dear  Mary, —  .  .  .  How  pretty  it  must  be 
with  you  this  afternoon ;  not  half  as  hot  as  Venice,  I 
am  sure.  But  every  now  and  then  a  breeze  comes 
floating  from  the  water,  and  there  are  gondolas  skim- 
ming by,  the  beautiful  St.  Giorgio  rises  opposite  out 
of  the  sea,  and  the  bells  are  lazily  ringing  for  two 
o'clock,  which  is  the  time  when  the  pigeons  come  to 
be  fed  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Mark.  It  is  all  very  soft, 
and  lazy,  and  beautiful,  and  the  letter  which  I  re- 
ceived the  other  day  from  Mr.  Allen,  about  things  at 
Trinity,  sounded  far  away.  .  .  . 

I  wish  you  could  see  it  all.  The  Queen  is  here,  and 
every  evening  the  young  prince  comes  out  on  the  Grand 
Canal,  and  hosts  of  gondolas  are  there  with  lamps  and 
lanterns.  Every  now  and  then  a  company  of  singers 
in  a  gondola  goes  floating  by,  the  fine  band  plays  in  the 
Royal  Gardens,  the  people  shout,  "  Viva  Regina  Mar- 
gherita  "  under  the  royal  windows,  the  ices  of  the  cafes 
are  really  most  delicious,  and  San  Marco  looks  down 
upon  it  all  in  the  moonlight  and  seems  to  smile.  In 
the  mornings,  there  are  great  cool  galleries  full  of  glo- 
rious pictures,  and  quiet  back  streets  where  the  people 
lounge  in  the  doorways  and  chatter  round  the  fountains. 
Oh,  it  is  very  delightful,  and  I  wish  with  all  my  heart 
that  you  aU  were  here,  so  I  do.  .  .  . 


WENGERN-ALP.  339 

Bellagio,  July  30,  1885. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  It  is  a  beautiful  warm  morn- 
ing on  the  lake  of  Como,  so  warm  that  one  does  not 
feel  like  doing  anything  but  sitting  still  and  writing  a 
lazy  letter  to  a  dear  little  girl  in  America.  The  water, 
as  I  look  out  of  the  window,  is  a  delicious  blue,  and 
the  sweet  green  hills  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  are 
sound  asleep  in  the  sunlight,  which  they  like.  There 
is  a  garden  of  palm-trees  and  oleanders  right  under 
my  window,  and  the  oleanders  are  all  in  gorgeous 
bloom.  A  boatman  is  waiting  at  the  marble  steps,  in 
case  any  one  wants  his  boat ;  but  I  think  he  hopes 
that  nobody  will  want  it,  for  it  must  be  awfully  hot 
rowing  upon  the  lake.  This  afternoon,  when  it  gets 
cooler,  I  shall  change  all  this  and  start  up  to  the  moun- 
tains, and  by  to-morrow  night  I  shall  be  at  St.  Moritz, 
among  the  glaciers  and  snow-banks.  But  wherever  I 
am,  I  am  thinking  how  very  pleasant  it  must  be  in  the 
old  house,  and  what  a  good  time  we  will  have  when  I 
get  back  there  six  weeks  from  next  Monday  afternoon. 
We  will  not  make  any  plans  for  excursions,  but  just 
stay  quiet  on  the  big  piazza,  and  now  and  then,  when 
we  feel  very  energetic,  make  a  long  trip  to  the  corn- 
barn.  Everybody  must  come  and  see  us ;  we  will  not 
go  to  see  anybody.  .  .  . 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Wengern-Alp,  August  12,  1885. 

Dear  William,  — ...  A  letter  from  the  Weng- 
ern-Alp  must  go  to  you,  for  the  view  which  is  before  me 
as  I  write  brings  back  most  vividly  the  day  we  climbed 
from  Grindenwald,  and  sat  and  looked  at  the  white 
beauty  for  an  hour  before  we  scrambled  down  to  Lauter- 
brunnen  and  went  on  our  way  to  Thun.     I  came  up 


340  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

the  same  way  yesterday  afternoon,  on  a  better  horse 
than  I  had  the  day  I  was  with  you,  and  reached  here 
just  in  time  to  see  the  evening  light.  This  morning 
the  sunrise  was  delightful,  and  now,  as  I  write,  I  can 
see  the  glorious  Jungfrau  with  its  splendid  snow  ;  and 
the  avalanches  keep  thundering  all  the  time,  and  send- 
ing up  their  clouds  of  icy  dust.     I  wish  you  were  here ! 

.  ,  .  What  terribly  hot  days  you  must  have  had ! 
One  of  the  great  discoveries  of  the  future  will  be 
how  to  deal  with  the  temperature  of  the  world,  and 
cool  a  whole  city  as  you  cool  a  refrigerator,  or  warm  a 
continent  as  you  warm  a  house. 

It  seems  as  if  the  Americans  were  at  home  this 
smnmer,  for  I  have  seen  hardly  any.  Dr.  Osgood  and 
his  family  and  Mrs.  Copley  Green  and  her  children 
were  at  Lucerne,  and  I  went  to  see  them  at  the  Eng- 
lisher  Hof ,  after  service  at  that  English  church  where 
we  went,  you  remember,  one  Sunday  in  1877.  Three 
weeks  from  to-day  I  sail ;  then,  in  ten  days,  I  shall  see 
you  all.  Affectionately,  P. 

Chamounix,  Augnst  19,  1885. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  Mont  Blanc  has  put  his  head 
under  a  cloud,  and  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  outside 
except  a  lot  of  guides  and  porters  waiting  for  the 
diligence  to  come  from  Geneva.  So  before  the  dinner 
bell  rings,  I  will  send  off  my  week's  letter,  and  it  shall 
be  to  you.  Tell  Tood  that  the  next  week's,  which  will 
be  the  last  that  I  shall  write,  shall  be  to  her,  for  she 
has  been  a  good  little  girl  and  written  me  beautiful 
letters  all  summer.  So  have  you.  I  got  your  letter 
here  last  night  with  the  picture  of  the  bird  house  in 
the  garden  on  the  side  of  the  paper.  After  you  get 
this  letter,  remember  that  you  are  not  to  do  a  single 


PARIS.  841 

thing  exciting  until  I  get  home,  so  that  you  will  be  all 
fresh  and  strong  to  play  with  me.  .  .  .  Only  two 
weeks  from  to-day!  Just  think  of  it!  Two  weeks 
from  now  the  beautiful  Pavonia  will  be  steaming 
away  down  the  Channel,  bound  for  North  Andover, 
and  three  weeks  from  next  Sunday  I  shall  stand  up  in 
Trinity  again. 

You  cannot  think  how  splendid,  the  great  mountain 
was  last  night.  The  sky  was  perfectly  clear  and  the 
moon  was  glorious,  and  the  big  round  dome  of  snow 
shone  like  another  world.  The  people  stood  and  gazed 
at  it  and  looked  solemn.  This  morning  it  had 
changed,  but  was  no  less  beautiful.  It  was  like  a 
great  mass  of  silver.  And  so  it  stands  there  and 
changes  from  one  sort  of  beauty  to  another,  year  after 
year,  and  age  after  age. 

I  think  you  must  have  a  beautiful  time  this  sum- 
mer with  the  pony,  and  next  year  we  must  try 
to  have  one  of  our  own.  Make  up  your  mind  what 
kind  and  color  he  shall  be,  and  we  will  look  about  and 
see  what  we  can  find  when  I  get  home.  It  must  be 
a  great  sight  to  see  Tood  driving  all  by  her  blessed 
self,  and  all  the  fast  horses  on  the  road  getting  out  of 
the  way  for  fear  she  will  run  over  them.  .  .  .  Perhaps 
you  and  she  can  drive  me  out  to  Cambridge,  mornings 
in  November,  in  the  pony-cart.  I  wonder  if  I  shall 
go  there  this  year,  and  whether  you  will  go  with  me. 
Good-by  now.         Affectionately,  your  uncle,         P. 

Grand  Hotel,  Paris,  August  27,  1885. 

My  dear  Tood,  —  It  really  begins  to  look  as  if  I 
were  actually  coming  home,  for  you  see  the  Pavonia 
arrived  yesterday  at  Liverpool,  and  she  will  stay  there 
until  next  Wednesday,  and  then  she  expects  me  to  go 


342  ENGLAND  AND  EUROPE. 

back  in  her.  It  seems  very  likely,  therefore,  that  two 
weeks  from  day  after  to-morrow,  I  shall  come  ashore  in 
Boston ;  then  I  shall  see  you  and  have  the  chance  to 
thank  you  for  all  your  pleasant  letters,  which  it  has 
been  a  very  great  delight  to  get,  and  which  have  very 
much  relieved  the  weariness  and  troubles  of  my 
journey.  I  think  that  you  are  one  of  the  very  best 
letter  writers  for  your  time  of  life  that  I  know,  and 
when  you  drop  into  poetry  it  is  beautiful.  So  I  will 
thank  you  when  I  get  home,  and  we  will  sit  in  the 
shadow  of  the  corn-barn  and  talk  it  all  over. 

Paris  is  very  bright  and  gay  and  pretty.  Yester- 
day I  went  out  to  the  Jardin  d'Acclimatation  (say  that 
if  you  can),  and  the  monkeys  were  awfully  funny. 
How  would  it  do  to  get  three  monkeys  for  North 
Andover,  and  tie  them  to  a  post  in  the  side  yard  and 
see  them  play  and  fight  ?  How  would  Tom  like  it  ? 
And  do  you  think  it  would  please  Johnny,  or  would 
he  only  think  they  were  some  more  Brooks  children  ? 
I  am  afraid  you  have  not  seen  much  of  Johnny  this 
year.  That  is  not  wise.  For  he  is  a  very  brilliant 
little  boy,  and  it  would  be  a  great  advantage  to  you 
and  A.  if  you  talked  with  him.  .  .  . 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 


ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT  TO  SAN 
FRANCISCO. 

1886. 

Victoria  Hotel,  Alamosa,  Colorado, 
May  6,  1886. 

Dear  William,  —  This  is  the  first  letter  of  the 
great  journey,  written  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult 
of  Raymond  tourists  and  cow-boys,  who  fill  the  office 
of  this  beautiful  hotel,  while  we  are  waiting  for  our 
dinner.  We  are  on  the  crest  of  the  continent,  a  good 
six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  with  Pike's  Peak  and 
a  host  of  other  snow-peaked  giants  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  in  full  view,  and  the  queerest  shanty-town 
to  stay  in  that  you  ever  saw.  But  what  a  day  it  is  ! 
Such  atmosphere,  sunshine,  and  great  outlooks  in 
every  direction !  To-day  we  have  been  up  to  the 
Toltec  Gorge,  riding  through  endless  plains  of  sage 
grass,  with  queer  little  prairie  dogs  sitting,  each  of 
them,  on  the  edge  of  his  hole  to  see  us  pass.  The 
Gorge  is  very  fine  and  picturesque,  not  up  to  Switzer- 
land, but  with  a  bigger  feeling  about  it,  and  altogether 
mighty  good  to  look  at. 

...  A  very  pleasant  journey  brought  me  to  Chicago 
Saturday  night  in  the  director's  car,  with  the  Baker 
party,  who  were  pleasant  people.  Sunday  I  heard 
Professor  Swing  in  the  morning,  Osborn  in  the  after' 
noon,  and  a  man  whose  name  I  have  forgotten  in  the 
evening.     I  wonder  how  things  went  at  Trinity  ? 

Then  came  the  ride  to  Kansas  City,  crossing  the  big 


344  ACROSS   THE  CONTINENT. 

Mississippi  at  Rock  Island  and  Davenport.  Then  there 
was  the  very  beautiful  ride  across  Kansas,  and  here 
we  are  in  Colorado,  with  New  Mexico  close  by.  All 
has  gone  well.  The  excursion  plan  works  nicely.  The 
company  is  pleasant.  The  days  are  long  and  idle. 
There  is  a  great  deal  to  see,  and  impressions  crowd 
fast  and  thick.  On  the  whole  it  is  a  good  success  so 
far,  and  better  things  are  promising  ahead.  It  is  not 
Europe,  but  it  is  big  America,  and  one  is  feeling  its 
bigness  more  and  more  every  day.  .  .  . 

We  must  be  all  in  the  best  condition  for  Andover 
by  and  by.     I  am  looking  forward  to  that. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Palace  Hotel,  Santa  Fe,  May  9,  1886. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  It  is  very  hot  here,  and  the  sun  is 
shining  down  upon  my  window  dreadfully.  But  the 
things  one  sees  out  of  the  window  are  very  queer  and 
interesting.  The  houses  are  built  of  mu^,  and  almost 
all  of  them  only  one  story  high.  Indians  and  Mexi- 
cans, in  bright  red  and  white  blankets,  walk  down  the 
street.  Funny  little  donkeys  are  wandering  about, 
with  small  children  riding  on  their  backs  and  kicking 
them  with  their  small  naked  heels.  There  are  some 
barracks  across  the  street  with  a  flag  flying,  and  a  few 
soldiers  lounging  in  the  shade.  Up  the  street  there 
is  a  great  cathedral,  whose  bells  are  ringing  for  some 
service.  We  are  over  seven  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea,  and  the  air  is  so  dry  that  you  are  always  thirsty 
and  cannot  get  enough  ice  water. 

How  I  should  love  to  take  a  Back  Bay  car  and  come 
down  to  one  of  those  lovely  five  o'clock  teas,  and  drink, 
and  drink,  and  drink  lemonade  for  three  quarters  of 
an  hour.  .  .  , 


NEAR  LOS  ANGELES.  345 

To-morrow  we  start  across  the  Desert  to  California, 
and  when  you  get  this  I  shall  be  at  Los  Angeles,  which 
everybody  says  is  just  as  beautiful  as  Paradise.  How 
I  wish  you  would  take  a  swift  car  and  join  me  there. 
We  would  eat  oranges,  and  figs,  and  grapes,  and  apri- 
cots, and  all  the  good  things  that  make  your  mouth 
water  when  you  think  of  them. 

...  I  wonder  how  far  your  letter  to  me  has  got. 
About  to  Kansas  City,  I  should  think.  Give  my  best 
love  to  everybody,  and  be  sure  I  am  your 

Affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Sierra  Madre  ViiiLA,  near  Los  Angeles,  California, 

May  14,  1886. 

'  My  dear  William,  —  I  wish  you  could  see  how 
beautiful  this  place  is.  It  is  not  exactly  like  any- 
thing I  ever  saw  before,  though  there  is  something  of 
Italy,  and  something  of  India,  and  something  of  Syria 
about  it,  It  is  a  world  of  vines  and  oranges,  with 
palm-trees  here  and  there,  the  high  hills  and  a  few 
white  peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  standing  up  behind. 
The  flowers  are  gorgeous  ;  masses  of  roses  and  hedges 
of  calla  lilies  all  in  bloom,  honeysuckles  and  helio- 
tropes growing  up  like  the  sides  of  houses.  It  is  as 
good  a  fairy-land  as  one  can  find  anywhere  in  this 
poor  world. 

The  way  here  over  the  Desert  was  dreary  enough, 
but  very  picturesque  and  striking,  and  the  descent  of 
the  long  Pacific  slope  was  very  beautiful,  with  countless 
flowers  and  all  sorts  of  strange  shapes  of  hill  and  valley. 

The  great  continent  is  crossed,  and  though  we  have 
not  yet  seen  the  Pacific,  we  are  within  a  few  miles  of  it, 
and  shall  get  sight  of  it  to-morrow  when  we  go  to 
Santa  Monica,  which  is  directly  on  the  coast.     The 


346  ACROSS   THE  CONTINENT. 

journey  has  gone  bravely  on,  with  no  mishap.  The 
"  excursion  "  part  of  it  is  a  decided  success.  It  has 
reminded  me  always  of  an  ocean  voyage.  The  excur- 
sionists are  like  your  fellow-passengers,  —  you  get 
familiar  with  their  faces,  and  learn  to  greet  them  in 
the  morning.  With  a  few  of  them  you  become  ac- 
quainted, but  you  are  under  no  responsibility  regard- 
ing them,  and  make  your  own  companionships  just  as 
you  please.  The  comfort  of  it  is  delightful.  There 
are  no  plans  to  make,  no  money  to  pay  out,  and  no 
time-tables  to  be  studied.  Nothing  but  a  little  book 
to  go  by,  and  a  man  to  tell  you  what  to  do.  By  all 
means,  when  you  come  to  California  be  a  Raymond 
Excursionist.  .  .  . 

YosEMiTE  Valley,  May  20,  1886. 

My  dear  Mary,  —  There  never  were  such  preci- 
pices and  waterfalls,  and  so  I  am  going  to  write  you  a 
letter.  You  see,  it  takes  a  two  days'  drive  to  get  here  ; 
the  roads  are  terribly  rough,  and  when  you  come  sud- 
denly to  Inspiration  Point  and  look  down  into  this 
glorious  place,  ringing  with  cataracts  that  come  tum- 
bling over  the  brink,  and  with  a  plunge  of  ten  Nia- 
garas burst  into  clouds  of  spray,  it  is  like  looking  into 
a  big  green  heaven  inclosed  with  the  most  stupendous 
cliffs,  so  that  the  blessed  cannot  get  out,  nor  the 
wicked  get  in.  After  you  get  here  it  is  very  won- 
derful. One  cannot  describe  it  any  more  than  one  can 
paint  it.  There  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  world,  and  if 
it  were  not  so  many  thousand  miles  away,  we  would 
come  here  from  North  Andover  once  every  summer. 
But  it  is  a  marvel  that  one  can  only  get  once  in  a  life- 
time.   You  can  see  a  bit  of  a  picture  of  it  in  the  corner. 

I  am  writing  this  beautiful  letter  at  the  right-hand 


YOSEMITE  VALLEY.  347 

side  of  the  piazza,  where  the  mosquitoes  are  very- 
troublesome.  To-day  I  have  ridden  an  unfortunate 
horse  up  a  four-mile  hill,  and  seen  another  world  of 
waterfalls  and  hills.  I  will  describe  them  to  you  when 
I  get  home.  The  whole  journey  has  been  very  funny 
and  pleasant.  There  are  people  and  places  all  along 
the  road,  at  Chicago,  Kansas  City,  Alamosa,  Santa 
Fe,  and  Los  Angeles,  which  I  never  shall  forget.  If 
you  could  only  see  the  place  where  we  spent  last  Sun- 
day !  The  oranges  made  the  whole  landscape  glow, 
and  the  roses  and  heliotropes  made  it  fragrant.  To- 
morrow I  start  for  San  Francisco.  Think  of  us  on 
Sunday  after  next.  May  30,  at  Monterey,  and  probably 
the  first  Sunday  in  June  at  Portland,  Oregon.  Have 
you  heard  they  have  chosen  me  Assistant  Bishop  of 
Pennsylvania?  .  .  .  Would  it  not  be  strange  to  go 
there  again  and  end  my  ministry  where  I  began  it  ? 
But  then  it  would  interfere  with  our  plan  of  retiring 
to  North  Andover  in  a  few  years,  which  is  what  I  am 
most  longing  for  and  looking  forward  to  in  life.  .  .  . 
Just  now  a  carriage-load  of  Raymond  people,  fel- 
low-travelers of  ours,  went  by.  You  have  no  idea  how 
friendly  and  familiar  we  are  with  them  all.  There 
are  men  of  letters  and  men  of  business,  and  women  of 
all  sorts  and  kinds.  Some  of  them  talk  good  English, 
some  talk  bad,  and  some  talk  what  can  hardly  be  called 
English  at  all.  Some  of  them  grumble,  some  of  them 
smile,  and  some  of  them  look  too  stupid  to  do  either. 
The  way  they  make  up  to  each  other,  and  have  grown 
to  be  like  brothers  and  sisters,  is  delightful.  They 
are  more  or  less  scattered  now,  but  they  will  come  to- 
gether again  at  the  Palace  Hotel  at  San  Francisco  on 
Saturday  night,  and  then  until  we  go,  some  of  us,  to 
Oregon,  the  company  will  see  much  of  one  another. 


848  ACROSS   THE   CONTINENT, 

There  is  the  queerest  primitiveness  of  life  in  this 
blessed  valley.  Your  landlord  talks  to  you  like  a 
brother.  He  asked  me  just  now  if  I  was  the  father  of 
a  Mr.  Brooks  who  was  here  ten  years  ago.  .  .  .  Then 
he  appealed  to  us  this  morning  to  be  prompt  at  break- 
fast, because  his  wife  had  been  working  over  the  stove 
ever  since  three  o'clock  (when  the  first  stage  went 
off),  and  was  almost  dead.  So  one  finds  himself  part 
of  the  family,  and  the  cares  of  the  house  are  his.  Yet, 
if  it  were  Boston,  I  would  leave  it  and  come  to  Marl- 
borough Street  and  get  some  lemonade.  I  wonder 
what  you  all  are  doing  and  how  you  are. 

.  .  .  Here  comes  another  stage  with  a  tired-looking 
party  of  Raymondites,  who  have  been  to  see  the  after- 
noon rainbow  on  the  Bridal  Veil.  Then  a  wild  Mexi- 
can galloping  by  on  his  mustang,  to  show  off  before 
us  who  sit  on  the  piazza.  It  is  all  very  nice,  but  by 
and  by  it  will  be  over  and  then 

I  hope  you  will  be  glad  to  see 

Your  very  loving  brother,  P. 

Pau^^ce  Hotel,  San  Francisco,  California, 

May  27,  1886. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  What  a  good  time  we  shall 
have  this  summer!  ...  I  will  tell  you  all  about  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  and  how  fine  it  is  to  stand  on  the 
rocks  and  look  way  off  to  China.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  China  here.  The  other  night  I  went  to 
a  Chinese  theatre,  and  the  way  they  howled,  and 
grinned,  and  cut  up  on  the  stage  was  something  won- 
derful. Their  play  goes  on  for  a  month,  being  taken 
up  each  evening  where  they  happened  to  leave  off  the 
night  before,  so  you  hit  it  at  one  point,  and  it  is  very 
hard  to  make  out  what  the  story  is.     Besides,  it  is  iiv 


MONTEREY.  349 

Chinese.  There  is  no  scenery,  and  the  spectators 
(those  that  pay  half  a  dollar)  sit  right  on  the  stage 
and  go  through  the  dressing-room.  The  quarter  of  a 
dollar  people  sit  in  front  of  the  stage,  just  as  our 
audiences  do.  It  was  very  confused,  picturesque,  and 
funny.  Next  week  I  am  going  up  to  Oregon,  and  shall 
be  somewhere  there  when  you  get  this  letter.  I  wonder 
what  that  country  is  like.  It  always  sounds  as  if  people 
went  about  in  furs  and  talked  O  jib  way  to  each  other, 
but  I  dare  say  they  do  not.  However,  I  shall  see  next 
week,  and  then  can  tell  you.  We  shall  sail  through 
the  Golden  Gate,  and  have  a  lovely  voyage  up  the 
coast  to  Portland,  in  a  beautiful  steamer.  How  I 
wish  you  would  come,  too.  .  .  . 

Hotel  del  Monte,  Monterey,  California, 
June  1,  1886. 

I  have  written  from  such  various  places  the  last 
month,  I  fear  my  letters  have  been  rather  irregular  in 
reaching  you.  I  have  written  to  somebody  at  your 
house  every  week.  I  have  heard  also  most  irregularly 
from  you,  but  I  have  had  several  letters  from  yourseK, 
and  your  father  and  mother,  for  all  of  which  I  am  very 
thankful.  They  have  been  very  good  to  get.  ...  I 
am  longing  now  to  be  quietly  settled  at  the  old  place. 
Not  that  this  trip  is  not  delightful.  Everything  ha.» 
gone  perfectly,  and  much  of  the  best  is  yet  to  come 
We  are  spending  a  few  days  at  this  beautiful  place,  and 
to-morrow  go  back  to  San  Francisco,  stopping  on  the 
way  to  see  the  Floods  at  their  famous  palatial  place 
at  Menlo  Park.  I  have  already  had  five  days  at  San 
Francisco,  which  were  very  interesting.  .  .  . 

Thursday  I  go  alone  by  steamer  to  Portland,  Ore- 
gon, and  shall  rejoin  the  party  ten  days  later  at  Salt 


350  ACROSS   THE  CONTINENT. 

Ijake.  The  sea,  on  which  we  spend  forty-eight  hours, 
is  a  terror  to  most  of  the  people,  but  I  expect  to  enjoy 
it  very  much,  and  shall  be  glad  to  get  sight  of  Puget's 
Sound  and  Vancouver's  Island.  The  June  days  there 
will  be  delightful.  Oh,  if  you  could  only  be  with 
me.  .  .  .  My  next  great  delight  is  being  with  you  all 
at  Andover.     My  best  love  to  everybody. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Victoria,  Vancouver's  Island,  Puget  Sound, 
June  8,  1886. 

My  dear  Mary,  —  I  hope  this  Puget  Sound  sounds 
as  far  from  Boston  to  you  as  it  does  to  me.  It  has 
taken  a  long  time  to  get  here,  and  is  my  farthest 
point  from  home  upon  this  journey.  From  this  after- 
noon every  step  is  homeward.  Already  the  boat  is 
lying  at  the  wharf  and  I  am  writing  in  the  cabin,  while 
there  is  a  racket  going  on,  of  the  men  who  are  bringing 
freight  on  board,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  shall  sail 
for  Tacoma  and  Portland.  Lunch  is  ready  on  the 
table,  or  at  least  the  preparations  for  lunch,  but  we 
must  not  have  any  until  the  steamer  gets  away.  And 
I  am  very  hungry,  for  I  have  been  on  a  long  drive 
over  the  country  for  the  last  three  hours,  trying  to  find 
out  what  this  bit  of  Her  Majesty's  dominions  may  be 
like. 

I  wish  you  and  G.  had  been  with  me,  for  the  drive 
was  beautiful,  and  led  to  a  dry  dock  at  a  queer  little 
village,  where  one  of  the  Queen's  men-of-war  was 
lying,  looking  very  picturesque.  The  town  itself  is  a 
big  rambling  place,  with  a  pretty  park  outside,  which 
they  call  Beaeon  Hill,  just  as  if  it  were  in  Boston. 

The  streets  have  queer  folks,  Indians  and  Chinamen, 
strolling  about,  which  makes  them  interesting.     There 


VICTORIA.  351 

was  a  curious  little  Chinese  girl,  with  a  long  pigtail, 
who  came  with  us  in  this  boat  in  charge  of  an  officer 
who  was  taking  her  back  to  Victoria.  She  had  been 
stolen  from  China,  brought  out  to  British  America, 
thence  smuggled  to  our  dominions,  and  there  a  China 
man  had  made  her  marry  him,  and  he  was  going  to 
sell  her  again  in  San  Francisco,  when  the  law  came  to 
her  rescue,  and  she  was  going  back  in  great  glee,  leav- 
ing her  husband  behind  her.  She  was  not  far  from 
being  pretty,  and  was  certainly  a  very  cunning-looking 
little  thing,  only  fifteen  years  old,  with  flowers  in  her 
hand  and  the  most  comical  and  clumsy  dress  you  ever 
saw.  We  left  her  at  Victoria,  and  there  seems  now 
to  be  nobody  of  any  interest  (here  the  boat  started 
which  accounts  for  the  joggling)  except  a  horrid  lit- 
tle boy,  who  looks  out  of  the  window  and  asks  silly 
questions,  for  which  his  mother  scolds  him.  His  ques- 
tions are  very  silly,  but  she  need  not  scold  him  so,  for 
he  evidently  gets  his  silliness  by  direct  inheritance 
from  her.  I  had  a  beautiful  luncheon,  rice,  salmon, 
lamb  chops,  baked  beans,  and  cherry-pie.  There  is 
nobody  on  the  boat  that  I  know.  Coming  up,  there 
was  a  man  from  Jamaica  Plain,  but  he  left  at  Seattle, 
and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

The  Sound  is  very  beautiful,  with  its  woody  shores 
and  snowy  peaks  beyond.  Mt.  Baker  at  this  end  and 
Mt.  Tacoma  at  the  other  are  majestic  creatures,  quite 
worthy  to  keep  company  with  the  Alps  or  Himalayas. 
I  hate  to  turn  back  and  leave  Alaska  unseen.  That 
must  be  gorgeous,  and  it  is  so  easy  to  go  there  from 
here !  .  .  . 

When  I  get  back  I  will  go  to  town  Sundaj^s,  and  the 
long  weeks  between,  we  will  spend  in  the  old  house 
and  have  a  lovely  time. 


352  ACROSS   THE   CONTINENT. 

I  hope  that  you  are  all  well  and  happy  as  I  am,  and 
as  anxious  to  see  me  as  I  am  to  see  you. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 


MAinrou  Springs,  Colorado, 
June  17,  1886. 

My  dear  Agnes,  —  You  wrote  me  such  a  very 
nice  and  interesting  letter,  which  I  received  the  other 
day  when  I  was  among  the  Mormons,  that  I  must 
acknowledge  it  by  sending  this  week's  letter  to  you. 
It  is  my  only  chance,  for  before  next  week's  letter 
is  written  I  shall  be  rushing  across  Kansas  and  Mis- 
souri on  the  way  home,  and  should  overtake  my  letter 
if  I  wrote  one.     So  this  shall  be  the  last.  .  .  . 

I  wish  I  could  look  in  upon  you  at  North  An- 
dover  this  morning,  though  this  place  is  very  pretty, 
the  top  of  Pike's  Peak  very  high,  and  the  waterfalls 
are  very  noisy ;  so  are  the  visitors,  for  it  is  a  real 
summer  place,  like  a  White  Mountain  hotel.  It 
would  be  pleasant,  instead  of  breakfasting  in  a  few 
minutes  in  the  room  next  to  this,  to  come  into  your 
dining-room  and  eat  a  great  deal  better  breakfast 
than  we  shall  get  here.  Well,  it  will  come  in  two 
weeks. 

I  shall  get  to  Boston  Saturday  morning.  Then  I 
must  spend  Sunday  there.  I  have  a  meeting  to  which 
I  shall  go  on  Monday  evening,  so  I  may  not  get  to  An- 
dover  till  Tuesday,  and  must  come  down  again  for 
Commencement  on  Wednesday  and  Thursday.  That 
week  will  be  a  good  deal  broken  up  ;  but  after  that 
is  over,  I  shall  live  at  the  old  house  all   the  time. 

This  is  Bunker  Hill  day,  is  n't  it?  Little  those 
people  knew  about  Pike's  Peak  and  Salt  Lake  City ! 


DENVER.  353 

You  must  give  my  love  to  everybody,  and  some  day 
write  another  letter  to  your 

Affectionate  uncle,  Phillips. 

Denver,  June  20, 1886. 

Dear  Tood,  —  When  I  got  here  last  night,  I 
found  the  hotel  man  very  much  excited  and  running 
about  waving  a  beautiful  letter  in  the  air,  and  crying 
aloud,  "  A  letter  from  Tood !  A  letter  from  Tood ! " 
He  was  just  going  to  get  out  a  band  of  music  to 
march  around  the  town  and  look  for  the  man  to  whom 
the  letter  belonged,  when  I  stepped  up  and  told  him  I 
thought  that  it  was  meant  for  me.  He  made  me  show 
him  my  name  in  my  hat  before  he  would  give  it  to 
me,  and  then  a  great  crowd  gathered  round  and  lis- 
tened while  I  read  it.  It  was  such  a  beautiful  letter 
that  they  all  gave  three  cheers,  and  I  thought  I  must 
write  you  an  answer  at  once,  although  I  told  A., 
when  I  wrote  to  her  the  other  day,  that  I  should  not 
write  to  anybody  else  before  my  coming  home. 

Your  letter  is  very  largely  about  Johnny.  My 
dear  Tood,  you  must  not  let  his  going  away  depress 
you  too  much.  I  know  you  like  him,  and  that  he  hafi 
been  very  good  to  you  ;  but  such  separations  have  to 
come,  and  you  will  no  doubt  see  some  other  young 
man  some  day  that  you  will  like  just  as  much.  You 
do  not  think  so  now,  but  you  will,  and  he  no  doubt 
feels  very  bad  at  going,  so  you  must  be  as  cheerful 
as  you  can  and  make  it  as  easy  as  possible  for  him. 
Remember ! 

T  am  on  my  way  home  now,  and  next  Saturday  will 
see  me  back  again  in  Clarendon  Street.  All  the  dear 
little  Chinese,  with  their  pigtails,  and  the  dreadful 
great  Mormons,  with  their  hundred  wives,  and  the  don- 


354  ACROSS   THE   CONTINENT. 

keys  and  the  buffaloes  and  the  Red  Indians  will  be  far 
away,  and  I  shall  see  you  all  again.  I  am  impatient 
for  that,  for  the  people  out  West  are  not  as  good  as 
you  are.  I  am  going  to  preach  to  them  this  morn- 
ing, to  try  and  make  them  better,  and  it  is  quite  time 
now  to  go  to  church.  .  .  . 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 


A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

1889. 

Walker  Hotel,  Salt  Lake  City, 
June  18,  1889. 

Dear  William,  —  This  is  the  first  letter  of  the 
great  new  series.  It  wiU  not  amount  to  much,  but 
will  let  you  know  that  we  have  come  thus  far  without 
accident,  discomfort,  or  delay,  and  are  spending  Sun- 
day among  the  Mormons.  The  day  is  bright  and 
warm,  and  we  shall  sit  with  content  this  afternoon  in 
the  great  Tabernacle,  and  see  the  queer  people  go 
through  their  queer  worship.  In  the  cool  of  the  even- 
ing we  shall  leave  for  Ogden,  and  sleep  in  the  hurry- 
ing car  which  carries  us  to  San  Francisco,  where  we 
shall  arrive  at  noon  on  Wednesday. 

Everything  here  looks  just  as  it  did  three  years  ago. 
The  great  Temple  has  grown,  but  is  many  years  from 
its  completion,  and  the  Mormons  and  Gentiles  who 
fill  the  streets  are  the  same  lank  and  loungy  crowd. 
I  do  not  want  to  live  here,  and  do  not  see  any  danger 
that  I  shall  have  to.  .  .  .  We  saw  the  mighty  scenery 
of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  gazed  at  Pike's  Peak, 
rushed  through  the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas, 
and  reached  here  in  time  for  a  drive  and  a  bed  last 
night.  .  .  .  The  heat  has  not  been  troublesome,  and 
Japan  does  not  seem  to  have  such  a  sultry  climate, 
after  all.  .  .  . 

AU  begins  weU.     May  everything  go  well  with  you 


856  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

until  we  meet  again.     My  love  to  all,  and  tell  them  I 
am  in  North  Andover  in  heart  to-day. 

Palace  Hotel,  San  Francisco, 
June  20,  1889. 

Dear  William,  —  At  last  the  great  day  has  come, 
and  we  sail  this  afternoon  in  the  City  of  Sidney.  We 
have  been  to  see  her,  and  find  she  is  a  fine  big  vessel 
of  three  thousand  five  hundred  tons,  with  large  state- 
rooms on  the  upper  deck,  of  which  we  have  one  apiece. 
There  is  only  one  other  passenger  besides  us.  We 
have  not  seen  him  yet,  but  he  is  said  to  be  a  Bus- 
sian,  and  is  the  United  States  Commissioner  for 
Alaska.  We  shall  know  him  well  before  we  get  to 
Yokohama.  The  captain,  first  officer,  and  steward 
seem  to  be  good  fellows,  and  there  is  every  prospect 
of  a  pleasant  voyage.  Everybody  says  that  it  is  cool 
and  smooth,  and  I  do  not  think  we  shall  find  it  too 
long.  We  have  laid  in  some  books,  and  there  are 
big  decks  for  walkee-walkee  when  we  feel  the  need  of 
exercise. 

We  shall  hope  to  sail  back  by  the  City  of  Rio  de 
Janeiro,  leaving  Yokohama  on  the  21st  of  August, 
due  in  San  Francisco  about  the  5th  of  September.  I 
hope  this  will  bring  me  back  to  Massachusetts  in  time 
to  get  two  solid  quiet  weeks  at  North  Andover  before 
the  time  to  go  to  New  York  for  General  Convention. 
That  will  be  good,  will  it  not  ?  .  .  .  Thanks  for  your 
letter  and  your  telegram.  How  often  I  shall  think  of 
you  on  the  long  voyage.  My  kindest  love  to  all  of 
you,  and  may  we  be  taken  care  of  until  we  meet  in 
September.     Farewell,  farewell ! 

Affectionately,  P. 


STEAMSHIP   CITY  OF  SIDNEY.  357 

Steamship  City  of  Sidney, 
July  8,  1889. 

My  dear  Gertie,  —  You  shall  have  the  first  letter 
from  the  other  side  of  the  world.  We  have  crossed 
the  Pacific  and  are  within  a  hundred  miles  of  Yoko- 
hama. We  shall  arrive  at  midnight,  and  to-morrow 
a  steamer  leaves  there  for  San  Francisco,  which  will 
carry  homewards  this  letter.  It  is  our  eighteenth  day 
at  sea,  and  we  are  more  than  seven  thousand  miles 
from  North  Andover,  —  think  of  that ! 

It  has  been  a  good  voyage,  though  the  weather 
has  not  been  bright.  It  has  been  cold  and  rainy  till 
yesterday,  but  there  has  been  no  storm  and  not  much 
rough  weather.  To-day  is  loveliness  itseK,  but  we 
are  still  wearing  thick  clothes,  and  the  big  ulster  has 
done  service  most  of  the  voyage.  There  has  been 
almost  no  sitting  on  deck.  We  have  read  a  great 
many  novels,  and  looked  for  the  sunlight,  which  we 
have  hardly  seen. 

Besides  Dr.  McVickar  and  me,  there  have  been  two 
passengers  and  a  half.  First,  a  queer  old  Russian 
gentleman,  bound  for  Kamchatka  and  the  islands 
where  the  seals  are  found;  a  strange  old  creature, 
who  has  been  all  over  creation,  and  seen  everything 
and  everybody,  and  is  quite  interesting.  Besides  him, 
there  is  a  missionary  lady  and  her  baby,  going  back 
to  Japan,  but  she  has  kept  her  stateroom  most  all 
the  way,  and  we  have  hardly  seen  her.  So  we  three 
men,  with  the  ship's  officers,  have  had  the  great 
steamer  to  ourselves.  She  is  not  like  the  Adriatic  or 
Germanic,  but  she  is  a  fine  large  ship  and  very  com- 
fortable. Plenty  of  room,  plenty  to  eat,  and  every- 
body well  all  the  time. 

.  .  .  The  Kodak  came  out  this  morning  for  the  first 


358  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

time,  and  took  the  ship  and  the  captain.     There  has 
been  no  sun  for  it  before.  .  .  . 

Think  of  us  seeing  Fujiyama  to-morrow. 

Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Tokyo,  July  14, 1889. 

Arthur  Dear,  —  Shall  I  tell  you  what  Japan 
looks  like  to  one  on  the  sixth  day  after  his  arrival  ? 
I  could  not  begin  to  do  it  if  I  tried,  but  of  all  bright, 
merry,  pretty  places,  it  is  the  prettiest  and  brightest, 
and  if  ever  life  anywhere  is  a  frolic  and  a  joke,  it 
must  be  here.  I  do  not  think  there  can  be  a  grim 
spot  in  all  the  happy  islands.  It  is  all  so  different 
from  India.  If  India  is  a  perpetual  dream,  some- 
times deepening  into  a  nightmare,  Japan  is  a  per- 
petual spectacle,  now  and  then  blazing  into  a  mild 
orgie.  I  do  not  think  there  can  be  a  place  anywhere 
in  the  world  more  suitable  for  pure  relaxation.  It  is 
just  the  country  for  a  summer  vacation,  and  the  get- 
ting here  is  delightful. 

After  we  left  you  that  morning  in  New  York,  five 
weeks  ago  next  Tuesday,  we  had  a  prosperous  journey 
across  the  continent ;  and  after  two  days  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, sailed  across  the  Pacific,  a  long,  wet,  placid 
voyage  of  eighteen  days,  and  landed  at  Yokohama 
with  minds  well  emptied,  rested,  and  ready  for  what- 
ever might  be  poured  in.  The  people  looked  so  glad 
to  see  us.  The  jinrikisha  men  did  not  quarrel  with 
our  bulk ;  the  foreign  residents  were  kind  and  hospi- 
table. In  Yokohama  I  dined  with  a  classmate  of 
yours,  John  Lindsley  by  name,  who  is  the  agent  of 
the  Canadian  Pacific,  and  has  a  beautiful  house  and 
pretty  wife.  Yesterday  we  came  on  hither,  where 
to-day,  in  addition  to  thousands  of  heathen,  I  have 


TOKYO.  359 

seen  Bishop  "Williams  and  many  of  the  missionary 
people  and  arrangements  of  our  church.  It  all  looks 
very  well,  and  the  best  of  the  foreigners  tell  good 
stories  about  missionary  life  and  influence. 

So  Japan  is  a  true  success  as  the  field  for  a  summer 
journey.  The  weather  so  far  is  delightful,  and  the 
great  Buddha  at  Kamakura  is  wonderful  indeed. 

I  hope  your  summer  is  going  delightfully.  I  am 
sure  it  is.     My  best  love  to  Lizzie.  .  .  . 

Affectionately,  P. 

Tokyo,  July  14, 1889. 

Dear  William,  —  This  is  the  sixth  day  in  Japan, 
and  all  goes  wonderfully  well.  In  a  few  days  the 
steamer  starts  for  San  Francisco,  and  a  word  of  greet- 
ing shall  go  in  her  to  tell  you  that  we  landed  safely 
from  the  City  of  Sidney  last  Tuesday  morning,  and 
since  then  have  lived  in  Yokohama  until  yesterday. 

We  came  here,  and  are  now  in  the  very  heart  of  Jap- 
anese history  and  life.  It  is  very  fascinating.  The 
brightest,  merriest,  kindest,  and  most  graceful  people, 
who  seem  as  glad  to  see  you  as  if  they  had  been  wait- 
ing for  you  all  these  years,  smile  upon  you  in  the 
streets,  and  make  you  feel  as  if  their  houses  were  yours 
the  moment  you  cross  the  threshold.  They  drag  you 
round  in  their  absurd  jinrikishas  as  if  it  were  a  jolly 
joke,  and  are  sitting  now  by  the  score  along  the  road 
outside  the  window  in  all  degrees  of  undress  and  all 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  chattering  away,  making 
pretty  gestures,  as  if  good  manners  and  civility  were 
the  only  ends  of  life.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it, 
and  the  fascination  grows  with  every  new  street  pic- 
ture that  one  sees. 

The  weather  is  delightful :   mornings  and  evenings 


860  A   SUMMER   IN  JAPAN. 

are  very  cool  and  pleasant ;  the  noonday  is  hot,  but 
not  too  hot  to  go  about ;  and  every  now  and  then  tre- 
mendous downfalls  of  rain.  Wednesday  it  rained  as 
I  hardly  ever  saw  it  rain  before,  and  you  would  have 
laughed  to  see  our  experiences  on  Thursday,  when  we 
went  into  the  country  to  see  the  great  bronze  Buddha, 
sixty  feet  high,  who  has  sat  for  six  hundred  years  in  a 
great  grove  of  pine-trees  twenty  miles  from  Yokohama. 
The  railroad  had  been  swept  away  by  the  rain,  and  we 
had  to  take  to  jinrikishas.  The  road  was  overflowed, 
and  we  had  to  get  into  boats  and  be  ferried  over  the 
submerged  rice-fields.  Finally,  I  found  myself  on  a 
coolie's  back,  being  carried  over  a  little  torrent,  which 
the  jinrikisha  could  not  cross.  The  coolie  never  will 
forget  it  any  more  than  I  shall ;  but  we  saw  the  Dai- 
batzu,  which  is  the  gigantic  Buddha's  name.  And  I 
snapped  the  Kodak  into  his  very  face. 

We  have  had  most  hospitable  welcome  from  Ameri- 
can and  English  people  ;  almost  every  night  in  Yoko- 
hama we  dined  out,  and  here  we  have  been  given  rooms 
at  the  club,  which  is  a  Government  affair  and  most 
comfortable.  To-morrow  night  we  are  to  dine  with 
the  English  Bishop  of  Japan,  and  there  is  more  of 
courtesy  and  kindness  than  we  can  accept. 

We  shall  have  warmer  weather,  for  everybody  says 
the  summer  has  not  fairly  begim.  It  will  not  be 
excessive.  Indeed,  the  whole  climate  is  not  unlike  the 
summer  climate  of  New  York. 

To-day  we  have  been  looking  a  little  at  our  foreign 
missionary  work,  and  find  it  a  very  real  thing,  full  of 
interest  and  promise. 

Five  weeks  ago  to-night  I  spent  the  evening  in  Marl- 
borough  Street.  If  you  meet  Dr.  George  Ellis,  as  we 
did  that  evening  on  Commonwealth  Avenue,  teU  him 


NIKKO.  361 

Japan  is  a  great  success  ;  and  with  all  love  to  M.  and 
the  children,  be  sure  that  I  am 

Affectionately,  P. 

NiKKO,  July  21,  1889. 

My  dear  Mary,  —  You  remember  the  Japanese 
have  a  proverb  which  declares  that  "  he  who  has  not 
seen  Nikko  has  no  right  to  say  Kekko."  Kekko  means 
beautiful.  You  may  have  seen  Keswick,  Heidelberg, 
Venice,  Boston,  North  Andover,  and  Hingham,  but  if 
you  have  not  seen  Nikko,  the  Jap  does  not  believe 
you  know  what  beauty  is.  I  do  not  think  he  is  quite 
right,  but  Nikko  is  certainly  very  beautiful. 

We  came  up  here  from  Tokyo  on  Friday,  with  three 
hours  of  railroad,  to  Utsunomiya,  and  then  six  hours  of 
jolting  over  the  worst  of  roads,  all  washed  with  recent 
rains,  with  long  stops  to  rest  the  wretched  horses  at 
queer  tea  houses  by  the  way.  A  most  beautiful  ave- 
nue of  stately  trees  extends  along  the  whole  route,  and 
we  came  into  the  sacred  valley  far  up  among  the  hills. 
Here  are  the  most  splendid  temples  in  Japan.  They 
are  the  great  shrines  of  the  heroes  of  the  proud  days 
of  Japanese  history.  Their  solemn  bells  are  always 
sounding,  and  the  richness  of  their  decoration,  the 
mystery  of  their  vast  courtyards,  and  the  strange  fig- 
ures of  their  priests  are  most  impressive.  In  Tokyo 
there  is  much  of  new  Japan.  We  saw  the  university, 
the  missionary  operations,  and  the  electric  lights. 
Here  it  is  all  mediaeval,  and  the  works  of  man  are  as 
venerable  as  the  hills.     It  is  intensely  interesting. 

The  jinrikisha  men  finally  rebelled  at  Utsunomiya, 
and  would  not  bring  us  over  the  washed  and  gullied 
road.  One  could  not  blame  them,  but  it  was  incon- 
venient, for  we  had  to  take  the  roughest  of  carriages, 


362  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

and  the  horses  would  not  have  been  allowed  to  be 
harnessed  by  any  society  for  the  prevention  of  cruelty 
to  beasts. 

Our  traveling  for  these  ten  days  in  Japan  has  been 
a  beautiful  frolic.  We  have  a  capital  guide  and  ser- 
vant, a  merry  little  fellow  named  Hakodate,  who  talks 
queer  English,  does  everything  that  one  mortal  man 
can  do  for  two  others  under  his  charge,  and  makes  us 
very  comfortable.  He  is  the  best  guide,  I  suppose,  in 
the  country,  has  traveled  with  all  sorts  of  distinguished 
people,  and  is  perpetually  proud  of  the  size  of  the  party 
at  present  in  his  care.  If  you  come  across  a  little 
French  book  called  "  Notes  d'un  Globe-Trotter,"  by  a 
Mr.  Daudiffret,  you  wiU  find  much  about  Hakodate 
under  the  name  of  Tatzu.  Tatzu  is  his  real  name,  but 
for  some  unknown  reason  he  goes  under  the  name  of 
the  town  in  the  north  of  Japan  from  which  he  comes. 
That  same  French  book  is  a  very  amusing  account  of 
much  of  what  we  are  seeing  every  day  in  this  delight- 
ful land. 

.  .  .  This  Sunday  morning  is  Sunday  evening  with 
you.  I  am  just  going  to  preach  at  a  service  in  one 
of  the  houses  here.  You  are  sitting  on  the  piazza.  I 
wish  I  could  spend  the  evening  with  you,  and  yet  these 
hills  are  lovely,  and  so  far  the  climate  has  been  perfect. 
There  has  been  no  excessive  heat.  Now  and  then  a 
bit  of  an  earthquake,  they  say,  but  they  are  so  little 
that  there  is  no  excitement. 

It  seems  as  if  there  were  aU  pleasant  things,  until 
we  meet  in  mid-September.  Till  then  may  we  all  be 
safe  and  well.     My  love  to  all. 

Affectionately,  P. 


NIKKO.  363 

NiKKO,  Japan,  July  22,  1889. 

Dear  Johnnie,  —  I  wonder  if  it  rains  this  morning 
at  Marion  as  it  rains  at  Nikko.  The  bells  of  the  Bud- 
dhist temples  sound  through  the  thick  mist,  and  the 
mountains  hide  themselves  under  the  clouds,  and  we 
can  see  nothing  of  what  everybody  says  is  the  most 
beautiful  place  in  Japan.  Before  it  clears  I  will  talkee- 
talkee  a  little  with  you.  After  I  left  you,  Hattie,  Dodo, 
and  baby  at  Springfield,  I  reached  New  York  safely, 
and  the  next  morning  the  great  trip  really  began. 
We  went  on,  and  on,  and  at  last,  on  the  morning  of 
the  8th  of  July,  set  foot  on  the  land  of  the  Rising  Sun 
at  Yokohama.  The  little  Japs  were  very  glad  to  see 
us.  They  brought  their  little  jinrikishas  down  to  the 
wharf,  and  pulled  us  through  their  little  streets,  past 
their  little  houses,  to  the  big  hotel.  Ever  since  that 
they  have  been  as  good,  civil,  and  delightful  as  possible. 
They  are  the  merriest  folk  alive.  Everybody  smiles 
all  the  time.  They  smile  when  you  speak  to  them 
and  when  you  do  not,  when  you  stop  and  when  you  pass 
by,  when  they  understand  you  and  when  they  do  not. 
They  meet  you  with  a  smile  at  the  steps  of  their  little 
toy  tea  houses,  and  though  they  expect  you  to  take  off 
your  shoes  and  enter  in  your  stocking  feet,  that  you 
may  not  hurt  their  pretty  mats,  and  you  have  to  sit 
upon  the  floor  in  most  uncomfortable  attitudes,  still 
they  are  so  glad  to  see  you,  and  hand  you  the  chop- 
sticks, with  which  you  are  to  eat  your  rice,  in  such  a 
winning  way,  that  you  would  not  offend  one  of  their 
inconvenient  little  prejudices  for  all  the  world. 

The  missionaries  are  good  people  and  are  doing  ex- 
cellent work.  We  spent  one  Sunday  in  Tokyo,  and 
saw  Bishop  Williams  and  the  mission  buildings  and  one 
of  the  girls'  schools.     Most  of  the  schools  are  in  vaca- 


364  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

tion  for  the  summer,  and  many  of  the  missionaries 
are  here  in  this  momitain  place  of  cool  resort.  We 
held  service  yesterday  in  the  house  of  one  of  them, 
which  belongs  to  a  Buddhist  priest,  and  has  the  temple 
itself  in  the  side  yard.  The  priest  looked  at  us  as  we 
went  to  church,  but  did  not  come  into  our  meeting. 
If  he  had,  he  might  have  heard  me  preach  in  the  morn- 
ing and  McVickar  in  the  afternoon.  Here,  also,  is 
your  classmate  Sturgis  Bigelow,  who  with  Mr.  Fenol- 
losa  of  '74,  and  Mrs.  Fenollosa,  has  been  living  in 
Japan  for  years.  They  know  the  whole  thing  thor- 
oughly, and  since  I  began  this  beautiful  letter  (about 
the  middle  of  the  third  page)  we  went  with  them  and 
spent  three  hours  in  the  Shinto  temple  of  the  great 
lyeasu  which  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  you  ever  saw. 
We  are  going  to  dine  with  them  to-night. 

About  the  time  you  get  this,  the  21st  of  August,  we 
shall  sail  from  Yokohama  for  San  Francisco  in  the  City 
of  Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  about  the  middle  of  September 
I  shall  be  in  North  Andover.  Come  and  see  me  there, 
and  tell  me  about  your  summer,  and  I  will  tell  you 
all  about  mine,  which  is  as  jolly  and  queer  as  anything. 

My  love  to  the  babies  and  Hattie. 

Ever  affectionately,  P. 

Mtanoshita,  Japan,  July  28, 1889. 
Dear  William,  —  I  will  put  into  this  letter  a 
photograph  of  this  pretty  place,  where  we  are  spend- 
ing a  delightful  Sunday.  It  is  far  up  among  the 
hills,  and  is  Swiss-looking  in  its  general  mountain  as- 
pect. Thursday  we  left  Nikko,  after  five  days  among 
its  marvels,  only  made  less  perfect  than  they  might 
have  been  by  rather  too  much  rain.  But  they  were 
full  of  interest.     Then  we  came  back  over  a  horrible 


MYANOSHITA.  365 

road  to  Utsonomiya  and  by  rail  to  Yokohama.  Friday 
we  took  rail  to  Odza,  then  carriage  and  jinrikisha  to 
this  place.  Yesterday  we  went  to  Hakoni  lake  and 
saw  most  finely  Fujiyama,  the  great  mountain  of 
Japan. 

The  whole  way  was  full  of  interest,  through  vil- 
lages, past  temples,  and  by  one  mighty  Buddha  carved 
out  of  solid  rock,  sitting  by  the  roadside.  To-morrow 
we  go  to  Nagaia,  then  to  Kioto,  Nara,  Osaka,  Kobe, 
and  by  the  Inland  Sea  to  Nagasaki,  whence  we  return 
to  Yokohama  to  take  the  City  of  Kio  home  the  21st 
of  August.  She  brought  to  us  this  week  your  letters 
of  the  2d  of  July.  .  .  .  All  this  list  of  places  can  give  you 
no  idea  of  the  perpetual  interest  of  this  strange  land. 
The  Kodak  keeps  snapping  all  the  time,  and  I  hope 
is  getting  some  pictures  which  will  be  interesting. 
Every  person  in  the  street,  every  group  upon  the 
country  road,  every  shop,  and  house,  and  tea  house, 
and  temple  is  as  queer  or  beautiful  as  possible,  and 
the  people  are  delighted  when  you  tell  them  to  stand 
out  in  the  sunshine  to  have  their  portraits  taken. 

Hakodate  proves  a  jewel  of  a  guide,  and  while  he 
looks  out  ludicrously  for  his  own  comfort,  is  very 
careful  also  for  ours,  and  orders  the  good  native 
Japanese  about  as  if  he  were  a  prince.  We  have  not 
suffered  from  the  heat  more  than  we  should  have  done 
on  an  ordinary  White  Mountain  journey,  and  though 
the  hottest  part  is  yet  to  come,  I  have  no  fear  that  it 
will  be  excessive.  The  rains  have  bothered  us  a  little, 
but  on  the  other  hand  have  kept  the  country  very 
fresh  and  green,  and  the  luxuriance  is  something  won- 
derful. Rice  fields  are  sheets  of  emerald  and  the 
bamboo  groves  are  like  fairy  temples.  The  lotus  is 
breaking  into  flower,  and  the  low  swamps  are  gor- 


366  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

geous  with  its  great  leaves  and  splendid  flowers. 
Just  now  the  talk  is  of  the  new  Constitution  of  Japan, 
which  goes  into  operation  next  winter,  and  will  make 
the  country  as  modern  in  its  government  as  the  United 
States  itself.  What  will  become  of  the  Buddhist 
temples  and  the  picturesque  dresses,  nobody  can  tell. 
Already  young  Japan  affects  skepticism  and  trousers, 
but  the  missionaries  will  have  to  set  all  that  right. 
They  are  doing  good  work  and  have  the  respect  of  all 
true  men  here. 

So  much  for  Japan,  though  one  might  write  about 
it  forever.  My  thoughts  run  all  the  time  to  North 
Andover.  You  are  about  going  to  bed  as  we  sit  here 
writing  and  waiting  for  tiffin,  which  is  served  about 
one  o'clock.  I  hope  there  is  as  cool  a  breeze  blowing 
across  the  piazza  as  that  which  blows  through  this 
open  hall,  but  I  am  sure  that  no  such  little  Japanese 
waiting-maid,  in  kimono  and  obi,  sits  squatting  on  her 
bare  heels  in  the  corner.  North  Andover  is  best  in 
the  long  run.     My  loveliest  love  to  all. 

Affectionately,  P. 

Kobe,  Japan,  August  7, 1889. 
Dear  William, — We  are  here  at  Kobe  after  a 
most  delightful  journey  from  Myanoshita,  from  which 
place  I  wrote  you  last.  The  prettiest  thing  about  it 
was  the  visit  to  Nara,  the  old,  old  capital  of  Japan, 
and  the  seat  of  its  most  venerable  worship.  We  left 
Kioto  after  dinner  and  traveled  at  night  to  avoid  the 
heat,  which  was  pretty  terrible  that  day.  We  had 
three  jinrikishas,  one  for  each  of  us,  and  one  for  Ha- 
kodate,  also  one  which  went  ahead  with  the  luggage. 
Each  of  our  jinrikishas  had  three  men,  one  in  the 
shafts   and  two   pulling  ahead.     We   left  at   seven 


KOBE.  367 

o'clock,  and  reached  Nara  at  one  in  the  morning, 
thirty-three  miles  in  six  hours.  The  cheerful  little 
men  went  on  a  steady  trot  most  all  the  way,  and 
seemed  as  merry  as  crickets  when  we  arrived.  Three 
times  we  stopped  at  teahouses  and  stuffed  them  full 
of  rice,  and  then  trotted  off  again  into  the  night.  It 
was  bright  moonlight  the  first  haK  of  the  way,  and  the 
stars  were  splendid  when  the  moon  went  down.  We 
ambled  along  through  rice  fields  and  tea  plantations, 
with  villages  strung  along  the  road  and  people  coming 
out  to  look  at  us  all  night. 

At  Nara,  the  hospitable  people  of  the  Japanese 
hotel  were  looking  for  us,  and  soon  after  our  arrival 
we  were  sound  asleep.  Here  we  spent  two  days,  in 
a  perfect  wilderness  of  splendid  scenery,  historical 
association,  temple  architecture,  and  curious  life. 
There  are  tame  sacred  deer  in  the  groves,  and  tame 
sacred  fishes  in  the  lakes.  The  trees  are  hundreds  of 
years  old,  and  the  temples  are  older.  And  the  beauty 
of  the  landscape  is  a  perpetual  delight.  Here  we  spent 
Sunday.  We  went  to  a  little  missionary  chapel  of 
our  church  and  heard  our  service  in  Japanese,  and  an 
excellent  sermon  in  the  same  language  by  a  native 
layman. 

The  white  missionary  in  charge  was  off  on  his 
summer  vacation,  like  the  Rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
Boston.  After  service,  we  sat  in  a  tea  house  over- 
looking the  lake,  where  it  was  cool.  In  the  afternoon 
we  strayed  in  the  great  temple  groves  and  saw  the 
priests  at  their  curious  worship ;  all  night  the  drums 
were  beating  and  picturesque  heathenism  going  on  in 
its  remarkable  way.  Next  morning  early  we  left  for 
Osaka,  stopping  to  visit  a  most  remarkable  Buddhist 
monastery  on  the  way.     After   one  brilliant  day  at 


368  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

Osaka,  we  came  here,  and  to-morrow  leave  by 
steamer  for  Nagasaki,  which  will  take  us  through  the 
beautiful  inland  sea,  one  of  the  chief  glories  of  Japan. 
That   will   be   the   extreme    limit   of   our   traveling. 

From  Nagasaki  we  come  back  to  Kobe ;  then  by 
sea  to  Yokohama,  and  after  a  few  excursions  from 
that  familiar  place,  we  shall  be  ready  for  the  City  of 
B-io  two  weeks  from  to-day.  After  that  you  know 
what  will  become  of  me  until  I  present  myself  at  the 
side  door  in  North  Andover.  The  Kodak  is  full.  I 
cannot  find  anybody  wise  enough  to  change  the  old 
plates  for  the  new,  I  cannot  make  the  back  come  out 
to  do  it  for  myself,  so  I  shall  bring  it  home  as  it  is ; 
perhaps  some  of  the  hundred  snaps  which  I  have 
made  may  have  caught  something  interesting,  which 
the  man  in  Bromfield  Street  can  bring  out. 

It  is  hot,  beautiful  weather,  no  hotter,  I  should  say, 
than  we  often  have  in  Boston,  and  only  slightly,  for 
the  most  part,  letting  up  at  night.  We  are  quite  well, 
and  the  weather  does  not  hinder  our  doing  all  we  wish 
to  do ;  the  country  is  in  beautifid  condition,  and  the 
half-naked  folks  are  brown  as  berries.  And  you  are 
all  well,  I  most  devoutly  hope.  Letters  will  come  to- 
day, but  they  will  not  bring  advices  very  late.  My 
love  of  loves  to  all  of  you. 

Affectionately,  P. 

KiOGO  Hotel,  Kobe,  August  9,  1889. 
Dear  Tood,  —  The  mail  came  this  morning,  and 
brought  me  beautiful  letters  from  your  father,  mo- 
ther, and  you.  Before  we  start  for  Nagasaki,  in  the 
beautiful  steamer  Tokyo-Maru,  there  is  just  time  to 
write  a  beautiful  line  to  you,  and  send  these  beautiful 
pictures  which  have  just  come  in  from  a  beautiful 


KOBE.  369 

photographer's  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  Mr. 
McVickar  sends  his  love  to  you  with  this,  and  so 
does  Hakodate,  who  sits  in  his  native  fashion  on  the 
floor  at  Dr.  McVickar's  feet.  He  is  a  good,  wise 
man,  and  when  you  come  to  Japan  you  must  have  him 
for  your  guide. 

I  am  glad  you  are  having  such  a  good  time  at 
North  Andover.  Look  out  for  me  there  soon  after 
you  get  this.     My  loveliest  love  to  all. 

Your  loving  uncle,  P. 

Steamship  Wakamoma-Maru, 

August  13, 1889. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  The  Parthia  sails  this  week  for 
Vancouver,  so  there  seems  to  be  one  more  chance 
to  send  a  letter  from  Japan  before  we  leave,  and  it 
shall  go  to  you.  We  are  sailing  along  the  southern 
coast,  between  Kobe  and  Yokohama,  with  the  pretty, 
hilly  shore  in  clear  sight.  We  should  see  Fujiyama 
itself  if  it  were  not  quite  so  hazy.  This  afternoon  we 
shall  be  in  Yokohama,  then  we  shall  probably  go  off 
into  the  country  to  Kamakara  and  Enoshima,  and  a 
few  other  pretty  places,  for  the  one  short  week  that 
remains  before  the  "  Rio "  comes  along  to  carry  us 
away  from  this  delightful  land. 

Since  I  wrote  the  other  day,  we  have  been  from 
Kobe  to  Nagasaki  and  back,  sailing  twice  through  the 
Inland  Sea.  It  was  very  lovely,  almost  as  pretty  as 
Lake  George  itself.  The  days  were  warm  and  breezy, 
the  nights  had  glorious  moonlight,  and  I  only  wished 
you  were  all  here  to  see  the  pretty  sights.  Queer 
junks  were  lounging  on  the  water  about  us,  and 
funny  little  villages  were  on  the  shore,  and  curious 
Japanese  people  went  pattering  about  the  steamer's 


370  A    SUMMER   IN  JAPAN. 

deck.  None  of  them  were  as  nice  or  well  dressed  as 
the  little  girl  I  send  you,  seated  between  her  cherry- 
trees,  but  they  were  her  poorer  sisters,  and  she  will 
give  you  some  idea  of  what  looking  folk  they  are.  I 
am  quite  sure  I  have  seen  her  a  dozen  times,  as  I  have 
gone  in  and  out  of  their  ridiculous  little  houses. 

And  so  this  fun  is  almost  over  I  In  three  weeks  we 
shall  be  in  San  Francisco.  ...  It  will  be  hard  to 
realize  that  this  life,  which  we  have  been  seeing  so 
constantly  for  these  five  weeks,  will  be  still  going  on. 
The  priests  praying  in  the  temples,  the  girls  chatter- 
ing over  their  tea,  the  jinrikishas  running  round  the 
streets,  the  jugglers  performing  in  their  booths,  the 
missionaries  preaching  in  their  churches,  the  mer- 
chants squatting  in  their  shops,  the  women  toddling 
with  their  babies,  the  boys  swimming  in  the  streams, 
and  everybody  as  merry  and  good-natured  as  in  a 
world  of  doUs.  It  will  be  quite  as  good  to  remember 
as  it  has  been  to  see. 

When  you  get  this,  begin  to  look  out  for  our  arrival 
at  the  Golden  Gate,  and  have  the  corn  barn  ready  for 
a  pleasant  little  smoke  soon  after.  My  best  of  love  to 
everybody.  How  pretty  the  piazza  at  North  Andover 
must  look  this  pleasant  morning!  Good-by,  dear 
Gertie.  Your  affectionate  uncle,  P. 

Steamship  City  of  Rio  db  jAinsnto, 

August  28, 1889. 

Dear  Arthur,  —  Japan  is  far  behind  us.  We 
are  almost  halfway  across  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Mc- 
Vickar  is  on  deck  talking  to  some  English  people, 
and  I  remembered  the  letter  which  I  was  very  glad 
to  get  from  you  just  before  I  left  Yokohama  last 
week.     I  want  to  answer  it,  first  to  thank  you  for  it, 


STEAMSHIP  CITY   OF  RIO  DE  JANEIRO.     371 

and  then  to  say  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  must  not  allow 
myself  to  think  of  accepting  your  kind  invitation  to 
visit  Minnequa  on  my  way  across  the  continent.  It 
would  be  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  do,  but  I  shall  not 
much  more  than  get  home  to  Boston  for  Sunday,  the 
22d  of  September,  and  I  have  promised  myself  to 
preach  there  on  that  day.  Then  I  shall  have  one 
quiet  week  at  North  Andover  to  get  my  wits  and 
clothes  in  order  before  I  start,  on  the  2d  of  October, 
for  the  great  campaign  of  General  Convention.  It 
will  not  do  to  try  and  get  in  anything  besides,  and  the 
first  that  I  shall  see  of  you  and  Lizzie  will  be  when  I 
appear  at  breakfast  on  the  morning  of  October  3,  and 
we  go  together  to  the  great  opening  service  at  St. 
George's.  It  was  very  good  and  thoughtful  of  you  to 
propose  the  visit,  but  it  must  not  be. 

This  is  a  good,  slow,  steady  steamer,  with  a  very 
multifarious  lot  of  folk  on  board,  and  all  is  going  very 
pleasantly.  We  shall  have  two  Thursdays  this  week, 
picking  up  the  lost  day  which  we  dropped  here  in  the 
mid-Pacific  two  months  ago.  But,  in  spite  of  that, 
we  shaU  not  be  in  San  Francisco  until  Friday  of  next 
week.  Then  we  are  going  up  to  Vancouver  and  home 
by  the  Canadian  Pacific  via  Winnipeg,  St.  Paul,  and 
Chicago.  It  has  been  a  great  success,  —  the  worst 
thing  of  the  summer  being  the  steamboat  ink  with 
which  I  am  trying  to  write  this  letter.  I  hope  that 
all  goes  well  with  you,  and  that  Minnequa  is  gayety 
itseK.  Well,  well,  another  winter's  work  draws  very 
near! 

My  kindest  love  to  Lizzie,  and  counting  on  much 
talk  in  October,  I  am,  Affectionately,  P. 


372  A   SUMMER  IN  JAPAN. 

Steamship  City  of  Rio  de  Jakeiro, 
Pacific  Ocean,  September  6,  1889. 

Dear  William,  —  We  shall  be  at  'Frisco  to- 
night, then  I  will  send  this  last  letter  of  the  sum- 
mer, which  will  tell  you  we  are  safely  across  this 
mighty  pond,  and  that  I  shall  be  with  you  before  two 
weeks  more  are  passed.  We  have  had  a  slow  voyage, 
because  the  ship  is  not  a  fast  one,  needs  cleaning,  and 
has  not  been  pressed.  We  were  also  one  day  late  in 
leaving  Yokohama,  owing  to  the  severe  storms  raging 
in  the  Chinese  Sea,  which  were  expected  to  delay 
the  steamer  in  arriving  at  Japan.  The  whole  voyage 
has  been  calm  and  peaceful.  For  days  and  days  the 
ocean  was  almost  without  a  wave,  and  at  her  worst 
the  ship  has  not  rolled  enough  to  hurt  the  weak- 
est traveler.  We  have  about  twenty  first-class  pas- 
sengers, a  curious  lot,  Americans,  English,  Scotch, 
French,  German,  Russians,  Japanese,  and  a  whole 
lot  of  queer  Chinese  in  the  steerage,  who  cannot 
go  ashore  in  San  Francisco,  but  will  be  passed  on 
to  Mexico  and  other  places  which  do  not  yet  refuse  to 
take  in  the  poor  Celestials.  The  voyage  has  not  been 
dull  or  tedious,  but  it  will  be  rather  good  to  go  on 
shore  early  to-morrow  morning  and  telegraph  to  you 
that  I  am  safely  here.  We  shall  spend  Sunday  in 
San  Francisco,  and  in  the  evening  start  by  way  of 
Sacramento  for  Portland  and  Puget  Sound.  We 
shall  probably  arrive  in  Boston  Thursday,  the  19tlv 
and  then  for  a  quiet,  delightful  week  at  North  Ando- 
ver  before  the  General  Convention  at  New  York. 

I  hope  to  hear  to-night  that  all  is  well  with  you.  If 
I  hear  that,  the  summer  will  be  perfect.  It  is  five 
weeks  since  your  last  dates,  and  one  cannot  help  feel- 


STEAMSHIP  CITY  OF  RIO  DE  JANEIRO.     373 

ing  a  bit  anxious.  I  believe  all  will  be  well.  You 
shall  hear  from  me,  by  and  by,  just  when  I  will  arrive. 
Until  then,  be  sure  that  I  am  anxious  to  get  home, 
and  with  the  best  of  love  to  all,  count  me 

Affectionately  your  dear  brother,  P. 


SUMMER  OF  1890. 

Lucerne,  August  25,  1890. 

Dear  Johnnie,  —  You  were  mighty  good  to  write 
me  such  a  fine  long  letter.  Although  you  will  not  get 
this  answer  much  before  I  come  myself,  I  cannot  help 
thanking  you  and  sending  you  all  an  affectionate 
greeting  this  rainy  morning.  It  is  our  first  real  rainy 
day.  The  summer  has  been  free  from  blighting  heat 
and  blasting  tornado,  such  as  has  devastated  things  at 
home.  To  think  of  South  Lawrence  getting  all  blown 
to  pieces  !  I  read  about  it  in  the  "  Journal  de  Geneve," 
and  trembled  for  the  corn  barn.  What  a  pity  that 
I  have  lost  your  visits  to  the  old  house.  It  must 
have  been  delightful  both  for  you  and  for  Andover.  .  .  . 

This  has  been  the  quietest  of  little  journeys,  but 
very  pleasant  indeed.  The  streets  of  London  looked 
just  as  we  left  them  ten  years  ago,  and  the  great 
white  hills  were  waiting  for  us  in  Chamounix  and  In- 
terlaken.  Of  course  the  people  whom  we  wanted  most 
to  see  were  gone  from  London,  for  the  season  was  over 
before  we  arrived,  but  I  had  a  delightful  little  visit 
with  Tennyson  in  his  home  at  Aldworth.  He  has 
grown  old,  but  is  bright  and  clear-headed,  and  may 
give  us  some  more  verses  yet.  Just  after  I  left  Eng- 
land, Newman  died,  and  the  pulpit  and  press  have 
been  full  of  laudation  and  discussion  of  him  ever 
since.  He  was  a  remarkable  man,  by  no  means  of  the 
first  class,  for  he  never  got  at  final  principles  nor 
showed   a   truly  brave   mind ;  but   there   was   great 


LUCERNE.  375 

beauty  in  his  character,  and  his  intellect  was  very 
subtle.  .  .  .  What  a  wild  scene  of  frivolous  excitement 
Marion  seems  to  have  been !  I  do  not  wonder  that 
you,  H.  and  the  children  had  to  take  to  the  water,  to 
escape  the  land.  Be  sure  and  all  keep  well  and  safe 
till  we  come  back,  and  then  for  another  year  of  the 
old  familiar,  pleasant  work.  My  kindest  love  to  all 
of  you.  Affectionately,  P. 


LAST  JOURNEY  ABEOAD. 

1892. 

H.  M.  S.  Majestic,  June  27,  1892. 

Dear  Mary,  —  I  miss  my  old  companions  very 
much  indeed.  It  would  be  very  delightful  if  you  and 
G.  were  on  deck  to-day,  as  I  am  sure  you  would  be 
if  you  were  on  board.  The  day  is  delightful,  and 
the  big  ship  is  going  splendidly.  She  is  a  magnificent 
great  thing,  and  could  put  our  dear  little  Cephalonia 
into  her  waistcoat  pocket.  Her  equipment  is  sumptu- 
ous and  her  speed  is  something  tremendous,  but  I  do 
not  know  that  I  like  her  as  well  as  the  old-fashioned 
little  boats  which  seem  more  homelike,  and  where  one 
knows  how  to  find  his  way  about.  .  .  .  Our  captain  is 
Purcell,  who  commanded  the  Adriatic  when  G.,  you, 
and  I  once  sailed  on  her.  He  has  given  me  the  use 
of  his  deck-room  during  the  day,  so  I  have  a  lovely, 
quiet  time  ....  Mr.  Howard  Potter  and  his  family, 
and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Watson  of  Boston,  with  whom  I 
sit  at  an  extra  table  in  the  hall  which  opens  on  the 
deck,  are  about  all  of  whom  I  see  anything. 

Yesterday  we  had  service,  and  I  preached  in  the 
great  saloon  in  the  morning,  and  in  the  evening  I  held 
a  service  for  the  second-class  passengers,  of  whom 
there  is  a  multitude.  There  is  no  gong  for  meals,  but 
two  rosy  little  sailor  boys  march  through  the  ship 
with  bugles  playing  a  tune  to  call  us,  which  is  very 
pretty  indeed.     Wednesday  morning  we  shall  get  to 


LONDON.  377 

Queenstown,  and  that  night  I  hope  to  dine  and  sleep 
at  the  Adelphi,  where  I  will  eat  some  mushrooms  in 
your  honor.  Then  I  go  to  London,  where  I  shall  be 
on  Thursday  night,  and  ever  so  many  nights  after- 
wards, I  trust.  It  looks  very  nice,  but  indeed  I  should 
not  have  been  disappointed  if  the  Majestic  could  not 
have  taken  me,  and  I  had  been  left  in  North  Andover 
for  the  summer,  as  I  expected  when  I  saw  you  last. 
May  it  be  a  beautiful  summer  to  you  all.  .  .  . 

Yours  affectionately  and  majestically,        P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
July  4,  1892. 

Dear  Gertie,  —  I  have  the  same  old  rooms,  the 
big  parlor  and  bedroom  on  the  second  floor ;  the  boot- 
black boy  is  across  the  way,  the  smiling  youth  is  on  the 
sidewalk,  the  big  porter  is  in  the  hall,  and  everything 
is  just  the  way  it  used  to  be,  only  I  miss  you  very 
much  indeed,  and  wish  you  would  take  the  next 
steamer  and  come  out.  You  must  not  take  the  City 
of  Chicago,  because  she  was  wrecked,  and  it  would 
not  have  been  nice  to  clamber  up  the  side  of  that 
steep  rock  on  a  rope  ladder.  You  had  better  take  the 
Cephalonia ;  or,  if  you  cannot  get  her,  the  Majestic, 
which  is  a  splendid  great  boat,  with  a  great  deal  of 
room  and  all  the  luxuries  of  which  you  can  conceive, 
and  she  comes  over  in  no  time.  .  .  . 

All  your  friends  are  well  and  asking  after  you.  I 
dined  at  Archdeacon  Farrar's  Saturday  night.  Lady 
Frances  Baillie  was  there,  and  so  were  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester  and  his  wife ;  he  used  to  be  Dean  of  Wind- 
sor, you  remember,  when  we  went  there  once.  Yes- 
terday I  preached  in  the  morning  at  St.  Margaret's, 
^nd  in  the  evening  at  the  Abbey,  and  there  were  a 


378  LAST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

great  many  people  in  both  churches.  And  now  to-day, 
for  I  have  been  out  since  I  began  this  letter  this 
morning,  I  have  been  running  all  over  town,  and  last 
of  all  have  been  to  pay  my  Fourth  of  July  respects  to 
Mr.  Lincoln,  the  American  minister.  Do  you  re- 
member when  we  went  to  see  Mr.  Lowell  one  Fourth 
of  July,  and  you  sat  all  the  time  in  the  carriage  ? 

There  is  a  splendid  new  Velasquez  at  the  National 
Gallery.  The  National  Gallery  has  bought  it  since 
we  were  last  here,  and  the  people  for  the  first  time 
have  a  chance  of  seeing  it.  .  .  . 

I  am  going  now  to  dine  at  Dr.  Sewall's,  to-morrow 
at  the  Abbey,  Wednesday  at  Mrs.  Synge's,  Thursday 
at  the  Dean's,  and  so  on  every  day.  How  is  Tood  ? 
Everybody  is  expecting  her,  and  wondering  why  she 
did  not  come  over  this  year.  They  can  hardly  wait  to 
see  her.  Last  Saturday  there  was  a  garden  party  at 
Lambeth  Palace,  and  everybody  looked  happy,  and 
some  of  them  very  pretty.  Next  week  I  am  going  to 
see  the  Tennysons,  and  the  week  after  I  go  to  see 
our  friend  the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  is  now  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  and  lives  at  Famham  Castle. .  .  . 
I  am  coming  home  on  the  Pavonia  with  Uncle  John 
and  Aunt  Hattie  on  the  8th  of  September.  Now  I 
cannot  write  any  more,  but  send  my  love  to  every- 
body, and  am  Your  affectionate  uncle, 

P. 

Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
July  11,  1892. 

Dear  William,  —  I  did  not  get  any  time  to  write 
yesterday,  because  there  was  preaching  to  do  all  day. 
In  the  morning,  I  preached  at  a  great  big  church  in 
Chelsea,  and  went  home  to  dinner  with  the  minister. 


LONDON.  379 

Then  I  came  back  here  and  went  to  sleep  in  the  after- 
noon, and  had  a  beautiful  time.  In  the  evening,  I 
preached  at  St.  Peter's,  Eaton  Square,  a  large  and 
fashionable  church ;  went  home  to  supper  with  the  min- 
ister, and  found  a  number  of  people,  quite  a  Sunday 
evening  supper  party.  ...  I  am  only  going  to  preach 
once  more,  next  Sunday  morning,  for  Haweis,  to  whom 
I  have  owed  a  sermon  ever  since  he  preached  so  re- 
markably in  Trinity.  When  that  is  over,  I  shall  do 
up  the  sermons  and  the  Episcopal  robes,  and  not  open 
them  again  until  I  get  to  North  Andover  and  preach 
for  Mr.  Walker. 

This  morning,  I  had  a  long  call  from  Father  Hall, 
who  looks  weU  and  hearty,  and  seems  to  be  enjoying 
things  over  here,  and  to  have  no  thought  of  coming 
back  to  Boston  or  America.  It  was  pleasant  to  see 
him  again. 

John  and  Hattie  are  somewhere  in  England.  I 
heard  from  John  when  they  arrived  at  Liverpool,  and 
he  expects  to  bring  up  here  next  Saturday  night. 
They  seem  to  have  had  a  very  comfortable  and  pros- 
perous voyage.  Arthur  is  now  upon  the  ocean,  and 
will  be  here,  I  suppose,  some  time  near  the  end  of  the 
week.  McVickar  is  somewhere  on  this  side,  but  has 
not  yet  shown  himself. 

I  think  I  shall  go  to  the  Continent  on  the  25th,  two 
weeks  from  to-day.  I  do  not  know  where  I  shall  go, 
or  what  I  shall  do.  I  would  like  to  go  over  the 
Stelvio  again  with  you,  and  if  you  will  come  out  we 
will  do  it.  If  you  do  not  come,  I  shaU  go  alone, 
probably  as  far  as  Switzerland,  perhaps  to  Venice.  .  .  • 
Yours  affectionately,  P. 


380  LAST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

London,  July  17,  1892. 

Dear  William,  —  ...  I  have  just  come  back 
from  preaching  for  Mr.  Haweis  at  his  church  in 
Marylebone,  and  have  promised  to  take  luncheon  here 
with  Arthur  at  half  past  one,  and  then  go  and  hear 
Farrar  preach  at  the  Abbey  at  three.  Before  he 
comes  I  will  begin  my  Sunday  note  to  you.  I  am  not 
going  to  preach  any  more.  Next  Sunday  I  shall  be 
here  with  Johnnie,  and  we  will  go  and  hear  some  of 
the  great  men  whom  this  big  city  can  supply. 

.  .  .  Yesterday  I  spent  at  Lord  Tennyson's,  going 
down  with  Farrar  in  the  morning  and  getting  back  to 
dinner.  The  old  man  was  in  beautiful  condition, 
gentle,  gracious,  and  talkative  until  he  went  for  his 
snooze,  as  he  called  it,  after  luncheon.  He  read  us 
some  of  his  poetry,  and  talked  about  it  in  the  most 
interesting  way.  Lady  Tennyson  is  a  beautiful  in- 
valid, and  the  young  people,  Hallam,  his  wife,  and 
children,  are  delightful. 

We  have  been  to  the  afternoon  service  at  the 
Abbey,  and  had  a  pleasant  anthem  and  a  fine  sermon 
from  Archdeacon  Farrar.  The  whole  thing  goes  on, 
you  see,  very  much  after  the  old  fashion,  and  is  very 
good.  After  another  week  I  shall  be  glad  to  be  away, 
and  then  I  shall  think  of  you,  in  Paris  and  among  the 
hills.  .  .  . 


Westminster  Palace  Hotel,  London, 
July  24, 1892. 

Dear  Tood, —  .  .  .  Yesterday  we  were  at  the 
National  Gallery  and  saw  the  Botticellis,  Giorgiones, 
Tintorettos,  Titians,  and  others.  The  afternoon  be- 
fore, we  took  a  fine  drive  in  the  Park  and  had  a 
lovely  time.     This  afternoon   we  have  all  been   to 


KULM.  381 

Westminster  Abbey  and  heard  ArcMeacon  Farrar 
preach  a  fine  sermon.  Right  in  the  middle  of  it  a  girl 
went  wild  and  shrieked  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  and 
they  had  to  carry  her  out  neck  and  heels.  Don't  ever 
do  that,  will  you  ?  .  .  . 

I  am  going  to  leave  Tuesday  morning  for  the  Conti- 
nent. I  do  not  know  where  I  shall  go,  but  I  think  Dr. 
McVickar  will  go  with  me,  and  we  shall  find  some 
snow  mountains  somewhere.  I  am  very  sorry  about 
the  electric  railway  at  North  Andover,  and  the  trees. 
Perhaps  we  cannot  go  there  any  more  after  this  year. 
Where  do  you  think  we  had  better  go  ?  I  went  the 
other  day  to  the  Bishop  of  Winchester's.  He  lives 
at  Farnham  Castle,  an  awfully  old  affair,  with  keep, 
drawbridge,  and  dungeons  underground,  and  a  park 
of  three  hundred  acres  and  deer  in  it. 

D.  and  B.  have  grown  up  to  be  young  ladies,  and 
D.  sits  at  the  head  of  her  father's  table.  I  am  glad 
you  are  reading  so  many  nice  books.  You  will 
know  all  about  things  when  you  come  abroad.  How 
are  all  your  friends  ?  Dear  me !  it  sounds  very  far 
away,  but  I  shall  come  home  by  and  by,  and  we  will 
get  a  few  days  in  the  old  house  together  before  we 
break  up  and  call  the  summer  done.  •  .  .  Good-by, 
my  love  to  all,  and  I  am 

Your  dear  uncle,  P. 

St.  Mobitz,  Engadine,  Hotkl  Kulm, 

August  7,  1892. 

My  deak  Mary,  —  ...  It  has  been  a  very  good 
week.  Last  Sunday  we  spent  at  Trouville.  That 
means  Dr.  McYickar  and  I.  Monday  we  went  to 
Paris  and  put  up  at  the  Grand  Hotel.  It  looked  very 
bright  and  familiar,  just  as  it  did  when  G.,  you,  and 


382  LAST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

I  were  there.     You  and  G.  were  not  there  this  time, 
for  which  I  was  very  sorry. 

Tuesday  evening  we  took  the  Orient  Express  for 
Munich,  the  train  which  you  know  we  thought  of  tak- 
ing, but  did  not,  from  Strasburg  to  Paris.  It  was  very 
swift  and  comfortable,  and  brought  us  to  Munich  at 
noon  on  Wednesday.  We  stayed  at  the  Baierischer 
Hof .  .  .  .  Thursday  morning  we  took  a  train  to  Inns- 
bruck, but  did  not  go  by  the  Achensee.  As  we  passed 
Jenbach,  we  saw  they  had  a  railway  from  Jenbach  to 
the  Achensee,  with  queer,  tilted-up  cars,  like  those 
that  go  up  the  Pilatus.  Friday  morning  we  took  the 
rail  to  Landeck,  and  then  a  carriage  for  a  two  days' 
drive  up  the  valley  of  the  Inn,  which  brought  us 
here.  .  .  .  We  slept  at  the  Tyroler  Hof,  where 
A.  and  L.  and  G.  and  you  and  I  were  five  years 
ago.  .  .  . 

This  is  a  glorious  place,  and  the  weather  is  superb. 
We  shall  stay  here  for  several  days,  and  then  I  do  not 
know  where  we  shall  go.  ...  I  wish  you  were  all  here 
this  afternoon,  for  the  snow  mountains  are  very 
fine.  .  .  . 

Lucerne,  August  14, 1892. 

Dear  Gertie, — I  passed  the  Eestaurant  Titlis 
this  morning,  and  thought  of  you  and  the  night  we 
spent  there  before  they  moved  us  to  the  pretty  Entre- 
sol in  the  Schweitzer  Hof.  The  Schweitzer  Hof  now 
is  full,  and  we  are  lodged.  Dr.  McVickar  and  I,  in  the 
top  story  of  the  Lucerner  Hof.  Last  night  there  were 
the  band  and  the  fireworks  in  front  of  the  Schweitzer 
Hof,  the  old  way.  .  .  . 

We  came  here  yesterday  over  the  St.  Gotthard 
from  Lugano,  on  the  lake  of  Lugano.  There  we  had 
spent  a  day,  climbing  up  Monte  Generosa  by  a  queer 


INTERLAKEN.  383 

old  railway,  like  that  which  climbs  up  the  Mount  Pila- 
tus,  which  I  can  see  from  my  window  now,  if  I  almost 
break  my  neck  by  twisting  round  the  corner  for  a 
view.  We  came  to  Lugano  from  Cadenabbia  on  the 
lake  of  Como,  and  to  Cadenabbia  we  had  come  by  the 
Maloja  Pass  and  the  beautiful  lake  from  St.  Moritz, 
whence  I  wrote  last  Sunday;  that  is  thus  far  our 
journey.  .  .  . 

Oh,  I  wish  you  were  here,  and  that  we  were  to  go 
over  the  Brunig  to-morrow  to  Interlaken,  M.  and  you, 
and  I.  But  you  can  see  how  it  aU  looks.  The  lake, 
the  boats,  the  flags,  the  people,  and  the  hills  around 
it. 

I  send  my  best  love  to  you  all,  and  by  and  by  will 
see  you  at  North  Andover. 

Yours  affectionately  and  affectionately,  P. 

Hotel  Victoria,  Inteblakbn, 

August  21,  1892. 

Deak  William,  —  There  is  no  letter  this  week, 
from  any  of  you,  for  which  I  am  very  sorry.  I  hope 
you  have  not  grown  tired  of  me,  and  given  me  up 
altogether. 

Do  you  remember  Grindelwald  and  the  Bear  Hotel, 
on  whose  balcony  we  sat  one  long  afternoon,  wait- 
ing for  the  rain  to  stop,  so  that  we  could  ascend  the 
Wengern  Alp?  M.  and  G.  and  I  went  to  the  same 
Bear  Hotel  two  years  ago,  and  sat  in  its  hospitable 
courtyard,  drank  coffee,  and  had  our  photographs 
taken  by  a  low-spirited  practitioner  a  little  way  beyond. 
I  went  over  there  yesterday  to  see  the  ruins.  It  was 
burnt  down  on  Thursday,  the  Bear  Hotel,  the  photo- 
grapher's shop,  and  pretty  nearly  the  whole  village, 
a  hundred  houses  in  aU  destroyed,  and  ever  so  many 


384  LAST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

wretched  peasants  thrown  out  into  the  cold  world. 
It  is  quite  awful.  You  will  never  see  the  Bear  Hotel 
again.  They  have  a  railway  from  Grindelwald  to  the 
Wengern  Alp,  and  down  again  to  Lauterbrunnen,  so 
there  will  be  no  more  pleasant  horseback  rides  across 
the  meadows  and  down  the  steep  descent  upon  the 
other  side. 

It  has  been  a  lazy  week.  I  tarried  in  Lucerne  until 
Thursday.  The  days  were  hot  and  lovely.  McVickar 
left  me  on  Tuesday  and  went  to  Paris,  where  he  must 
have  been  hot  and  wretched  for  the  last  few  days. 
Thursday  I  took  train  and  came  over  the  Brunig  here. 
Now  I  am  expecting,  to-morrow,  the  22d,  John  and 
Hattie.  They  are  at  Lucerne  to-day,  having  reached 
there  last  Friday.  .  .  .  Their  time  in  Switzerland  will 
not  be  very  long,  but  I  think  they  have  enjoyed  every- 
thing pretty  well.  You  cannot  go  very  wrong  in 
Europe.  When  they  have  joined  me,  I  think  we  shall 
go  to  Thun,  Berne,  Martigny,  Tete  Noire,  Chamounix, 
Geneva,  and  so  to  Paris,  where  we  shall  get  a  few  days 
before  it  is  time  to  go  to  London,  Liverpool,  and  the 
Pavonia. 

These  are  sad  tidings  of  the  riots  and  fightings  in 
Buffalo  and  Tennessee.  It  is  good  that  violence 
should  be  put  down  by  military  force,  but  that  does 
not  solve  the  problem  of  how  the  great  men  are  to 
live  with  the  little  men,  and  what  is  the  function  of 
government  as  regards  them  both.  Only  time  and 
events  and  the  slow  progress  of  mankind  will  settle 
that. 

Meanwhile,  I  send  you  all  my  dearest  love  and  am 
Ever  and  always  yours  affectionately,  P. 


CHAMOUNIX.  385 

Hotel  d'Anqletbrbe,  Chamotinix, 

August  28,  1892. 

Dear  William,  Mary,  Gertrude,  Agnes,  and 
ToOD,  —  This  is  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  to  any  of 
you  on  this  journey,  because  next  Sunday  it  will  be 
within  four  days  of  the  sailing  of  the  Pavonia,  and  it 
will  not  be  worth  while  to  write.  This  fun  is  almost 
over.  John  and  Hattie  joined  me  last  Monday  at  In- 
terlaken. 

.  .  .  Tuesday  we  went  to  Lauterbrunnen  and  the 
Trummelbach,  and  had  a  fine,  bright,  sunshiny  day. 
Wednesday  we  loafed  about  Interlaken  all  the  morn- 
ing, and  took  the  boat  and  train  in  the  afternoon  for 
Berne  by  Thun.  It  was  not  clear  when  we  reached 
Berne,  so  we  did  not  see  the  great  view  of  the  Alps, 
but  saw  the  bears  in  their  pit.  I  showed  the  old 
woman  on  the  terrace  the  bear  which  I  bought  of  her 
for  fifty  centimes  two  years  ago  and  have  carried  in 
my  pocket  ever  since,  which  pleased  her  simple  soul 
very  much  indeed,  and  pleased  mine  more.  She 
thought  it  very  pretty  of  me  to  have  taken  such  fond 
care  of  it,  and  she  offered  to  make  it  brown  and  young 
again  for  nothing.  But  I  did  not  want  her  to  do  that, 
and  told  her  I  would  bring  it  back  again  in  two  years 
more  to  see  her. 

We  went  back  to  the  Berner  Hof  for  dinner,  and 
in  the  evening  to  a  Beer  Garden  and  heard  music. 
Thursday  it  rained  hard,  but  we  came  to  Martigny  by 
rail,  and  after  we  reached  there  in  the  afternoon  it 
was  pleasant  enough  for  us  to  take  a  drive  and  see  the 
Gorge  de  Trient.  Friday  we  drove  over  the  T^te 
Noire.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  views  were 
prettiest  and  best.  Saturday  the  mountains  were  as 
clear  as  clear  could  be,  so  we  are  lucky. 


886  LAST  JOURNEY  ABROAD. 

An  Oxford  professor  tried  to  go  up  Mont  Blanc 
Thursday  in  the  storm,  and  died  of  exhaustion.  Yes- 
terday, through  the  telescope  in  the  hotel  yard,  we 
could  see  them  bringing  his  dead  body  down  over  the 
snow,  and  I  suppose  it  arrived  here  late  last  night. 
■  The  only  high  ascent  made  by  our  party,  and  that 
was  entirely  successful,  was  John's  going  with  a  mule 
and  a  guide  to  the  Montanvert,  crossing  the  Mer  de 
Glace,  and  coming  down  by  the  Mauvais  Pas.  The 
journey  was  accomplished  without  any  accident,  and 
the  climber  reached  the  hotel  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  not  much  fatigued. 

To-morrow  we  go  to  Geneva  (Hotel  de  la  Paix), 
and  the  next  day  shall  take  the  long,  tiresome  ride  to 
Paris ;  after  that  you  know  about  what  will  happen 
to  us,  until  you  find  us  in  your  arms  again.  .  .  I  am 
very  well  indeed,  thank  you,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you  all  again.     Yours  most  affectionately,  P. 


.-ju,.  .7  xTir-"iiiT«S'v«T«l»awt->««faiiil 


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